


The Nanny

by LunaCangiante



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: AU, F/M, Surprised No One Else Did This, nanny - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:03:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 56,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4351670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaCangiante/pseuds/LunaCangiante
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Booker wakes up at the end of Infinite, he sees now that he has a second chance to buckle down and be a good father. To do that he's going to need some help, and he hires a nanny who may just drive him crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea when I was done playing Bioshock Infinite for the thirty seventh time and decided to spend some time with my family. Yes I know, I'm surprised they exist too. We watched Marry Poppins and while it would have been fantastic to do a crossover, I'm not that smart. So this is what I came up with instead.

“Anna,” Booker’s head shot up from the desk he didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep at. He glimpsed at his surroundings, his shabby home the messy desk with various bets and bottles littering it. When Booker’s eye caught the calendar, he thought he may have fainted. October 8th, 1893. Was this a second chance for him?

He shot out of his chair and to the door, “Anna,” he whispered. “Is that you?” He inched closer and closer to the crib, bracing himself for disappointment that she wouldn’t be there. But as he leaned over to look inside, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. There his daughter, Anna DeWitt, laid peacefully sleeping. Booker felt an immense sense of relief wash over him, it must have been a nightmare. He couldn’t help but smile a little when Anna opened her mouth and cooed before kicking her tiny foot then let out a long, content breath. 

There was a sudden knock at the door, not loud, but enough to draw Booker’s attention. He sighed, no doubt it was something to do with the Pinkerton’s again. His termination, he wondered, he did get a little carried away at the last strike when he’d beaten a man to death just for calling him a mindless slave-driving Pink. He normally would have agreed, but that was a really bad day and that man’s face was the closest thing to his fist. Though in his defense it got results. Still the higher ups at Pinkerton were not happy with his performance and he knew he was on pretty thin ice.

He left Anna to sleep contently while he answered the door. Samuel Moorely, another Pinkerton like Booker, stood at his door. Booker braced himself for the news, he didn’t particularly care for the job, but it put food on the table for himself and his daughter. Losing it would be difficult if he was going to provide for his family like he was supposed to. “Moorely,” he said curtly. 

“DeWitt,” he replied. Moorely was a head shorter than Booker, having to look up to speak to his coworker, with beady brown eyes and a wide forehead. His physique was best described as roly-poly, not quite fat, but certainly not at peak physical condition. His eyes narrowed at Booker, as he entered the office. “I must say I was expecting something a little less… Shabby.”

“Are you here to play homemaker or do you need something,” Booker snapped. He did not want to be bothered, and with the men’s history, he especially didn’t want to be bothered by Moorely. 

“The Pinkertons aren’t happy with you Booker,” he studied all the betting slips on Booker’s desk and frowned. “They don’t much like the idea of an ill-tempered drunk making a mess of things.” He read the slips and raised an eyebrow. “This horse didn’t win last night.”

“No shit,” Booker snatched the slip out of the portly man’s hand. “Now if this is something to do with the Pinkertons why don’t you stop beating around the bush and tell me.”

“That’s a hell of a bet to lose,” continued Moorely. Booker wanted desperately to punch him in the face, but refrained, the last thing he needed was to hear the Pinks complain about his temper again. “How are you paying for it? Wouldn’t happen to do with whatever’s behind that door?” He took a step towards the door but was quickly blocked off by Booker.

“What’s behind that door is none of your goddamn business,” Booker help out it arm to stop Moorely. “Either tell me the Pinks fired me, or get the hell out.” 

“Fine,” Moorely’s smirked. “You didn’t get fired, against their better judgment no doubt. They do want you to know that it’s one more slip up and you’re done Booker. This time for good. In the meantime, they thought they could give you something a little more in your field. They want you to find a man named Thomas Higgins, making all sorts of trouble in the city trying to rally the unions. Do whatever it is you do best DeWitt, you may even earn your way back into the Pinkerton’s good graces.”

“That all?”

“That’s what they want from you.”

“Good, now get out.” 

“Very well, before I go, might I ask,” he nodded his head to the door. “What is behind the door?”

“I already told you none of your goddamn-“

He was stopped by the sound of a loud wail. Shit, Anna was awake. Moorely’s eyebrows shot up instantly, so this was what was making Booker so uptight. “A baby?”

“Yes.”

“Is it yours?”

“Yeah.” 

Moorely was shocked to say the least, he had no idea Booker was a father. He had a hard time imagining the hot-tempered man trying to raise a child. Especially with the way he drank, it was a wonder he didn’t drop the child. “How long has it been here?”

“Six months,” answered Booker. Though it did make him pause for a moment, when the hell did half a year pass by so quickly? Then again, in his dream twenty years had passed so he guessed he shouldn’t have been so surprised. Moorely’s questioning gaze still didn’t leave his face. He knew Booker had been married for a brief period of time, he even heard about her death, but the baby was news to him. “Now if you have nothing else to tell me, you need to go.” 

Strangely, Moorely was more than happy to leave. “Well then, you know what you’re supposed to do, best not keep the Pinks waiting. I’ll show myself out.”

“Good.” Moorely left almost immediately, closing the door softly behind him. With a sigh, Booker entered the small bedroom where his daughter wrestled with the blankets then stopped suddenly when her father peered in from over her crib. She smiled and kicked her feet happily reaching her small hands up for her father. He didn’t say anything, instead just reached inside to hold his daughter. The events of his dream still fresh in his mind. Giving her away to some mysterious man, so he could pay off a few debts. Though this did leave the question of how the hell he was going to pay them off. But that was something he could deal with later, at the moment he was too busy enjoying his daughter’s company. 

She babbled a whole bunch of nonsense to him, but he didn’t seem to mind, instead he simply chuckled before setting her down to crawl. She explored the contents of their home and his office which was going to soon be too small for them. Booker noticed this with a sigh as Anna sat on her bottom, still babbling but settling on trying to reach her toes. She did manage to grab them, Booker noticed with astonishment, but as she tried to put them into her mouth she rolled backwards giggling as she laid on her back. 

“One of these days kid,” he said as he observed her amusements. “I’m going to get us out of New York. How does that sound?” She reached for his hair and gave it a quick tug, he winced but didn’t stop her. She giggled again and put her fist into her mouth and gnawed on it for a moment. “Yeah sounds good to me too.” 

He sat on his bed for a moment wondering where he would take the two of them. There wasn’t very much he could afford with his… Habits. He frowned at the thought, he didn’t really think about how he was affecting his family with his addiction to gambling and drinking. His wife never said much about it, and Anna couldn’t even if she wanted to. Booker felt like deflating, the thoughts made him feel like a failure as a father. Was he really that selfish? He tried to take the thoughts out of his mind by busying himself on Thomas Higgins, especially given that he’d have to reign in his temper this time or he would soon be finding himself looking for another job. He’d need someone to look after Anna while he was gone especially if he was on a goose chase for just one man. Booker had done many jobs similar but they could become lengthy. He thought again on his dream, and frowned, how long did it take to find Elizab- erm, Anna? And a far more relevant question, how was he supposed to find someone to work for him when he wasn’t exactly known for his social skills?

Anna crawled back to her father, now wanting the attention her toes were lacking. “Deh-deh-deh,” her hands flapped merrily. After raising her by himself for six months, he knew very well what that translated to. ‘What are you doing dad and why aren’t I a part of it?’ He looked down to the quizzing look of his daughter, he picked her up again and sat her on his stomach. 

“Looks like we’re going to have to hire a nanny,” he sighed giving into his realization. “Don’t know how the hell I’m going to find one.” Anna put her hands by his mouth, he backed his head out of her reach. “Or pay her. We’re in enough debt as it is.” Anna stopped what she was doing and instead stared at her father. If Booker hadn’t known any better, he would have thought she was really listening and understanding what he was saying.

“Deh-deh-deh,” she conversed. Booker raised an eyebrow. She certainly had a lot to say today as she looked at Booker with a serious expression on her face. She shook her head and continued to ‘speak’ to him. Booker found it amusing to say the least. He found himself nodding and every so often answering with a brief ‘uh-huh’ or ‘hmmm.’ Finally she stopped and gnawed on her left hand again. Booker was glad to see that her tiny pinky was still there, not replaced by a thimble. 

“I hear they're all the rage in Paris.”

“Yeah I know,” he agreed as Anna kept babbling on and on. Whatever she was telling him, it was obviously important. She normally didn’t carry on like this, she usually kept conversation light with a few ‘deh-deh’ and then finding something else to do. But today, she was very interested in her father. Booker didn't seem to mind it though, as a matter of fact he liked having someone to talk to that didn’t talk back about his job, or his drinking, or his gambling. Her conversations usually consisted of needing to be changed, fed, or wanting to be nosey. 

She pointed at the newspaper on the ground next to the bed. “Deh!” She demanded. He glanced down, the classified section faced up. Booker was a little taken back, did she see that? Did she know what he was saying to her? How old was she again? “Deh!” She exclaimed again, Booker looked down at the ads, finding a list of nannies looking for work. ‘Well’, he thought glancing between Anna and the paper, ‘that was easy’. He browsed through the list, they all seemed as good a nanny as any. Still, he was more impressed by his daughter’s ability to find the classified section. He noticed she was still pointing at the floor, something else was down there that she wanted. His gaze followed her finger, her rattle was on the floor. 

Oh. Well that was just a very convenient coincident.

He reached down again and handed Anna the rattle which she took to swinging like a club, much to Booker’s dismay as he found himself dodging the wooden toy again and again. He kept reading down the list of possible nannies, how would he know which one was the right one for his home? He gazed around his office, one with low standards would be a good start. Anna finally clocked her father with the rattle. He was almost angry with her until she looked up at him with her big blue eyes and giggled. Booker sighed, she was just like her mother, and he never could stay angry at her either. He chuckled along with her as he rubbed his nose. “Nice one,” he complemented.

Booker stood up with his daughter in his arms. He could search for a nanny tomorrow, for now, some fresh air with Anna sounded like a much better idea.


	2. Chapter 2

Booker was not by any means a weak man. Especially not after the battle at Wounded Knee, he’d considered himself quite hardened by his experience. Which is why he hated when men and women stared questioningly when someone like Booker was pushing a stroller along with a babbling baby inside, and more so when he was looking content himself. They were used to the uptight drunkard who was either gambling his money away, or the Pinkerton who’d punch you in the mouth just as soon as he’d say hello. Now, he looked, approachable. He did not go out of his way to say hello to anyone, but the crease in his brow from scowling had disappeared. To many on the street, Booker DeWitt just looked like a normal man out for a walk with his child. 

A couple of people he had passed double took at the father then would whisper to their companions. Booker wanted nothing more than to turn around and go back home, but Anna seemed to be enjoying herself so much that he couldn’t bring himself to ruin it so quickly. He kept walking, trying to keep his eyes set straight forward, pretending not to notice the other people on the street. Anna did all of the talking on their walk, mostly picking up her head and cooing at passersby. Once in a while, Booker was complimented for the beautiful little girl conversing nonsense. Other times, the people on the street just walked faster earning a frown from Booker though Anna didn’t seem to mind. She was too curious with everything else that was happening to care if those people had spontaneously combusted. 

“Look Dorothy,” said a small voice behind Booker. He wasn’t really paying attention until he realized the conversation was about him. “Do you think that man is a nanny too?” Booker glanced over his shoulder to see a young woman who couldn’t have been much younger than he was, with a little boy who was pointing at Booker. Booker looked from the boy to the woman with a raised eyebrow but said nothing. 

“It’s impolite to point Norman,” scolded Dorothy. She smiled apologetically at Booker before kneeling down to the boy. “But I don’t think so. I imagine he is simply taking his child for a walk.”

“That’s not a child that’s a baby.”

“Oh,” chuckled Dorothy as she took little Norman’s hand in her own. “My mistake. Then I imagine he is taking his baby for a walk.”

“I thought that was a job for nannies,” Norman carried on, still staring at Booker. He tilted his head as they passed by the man and his daughter. “He doesn’t look like a very nice dad either.” Booker didn’t know why, but that offended him more than if anything else had said it. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Booker didn’t like what was said about him. Dorothy turned around as well and furrowed her eyebrows.

“Norman, do not be rude!” Her hands flew to her hips and she tapped her foot. “Go over to that man and apologize for what you said!” 

Booker didn’t like the sound of that. He didn’t really want to be bothered with anyone, truth be told. He just wanted to step out of his apartment, away from the smell of stale alcohol and nicotine, with his daughter. Now, there was a little boy, stomping angrily in his direction, muttering a string of words he could only imagine that they were about him. He stopped in front of Booker and looked at the ground.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and kicked the pavement. 

Booker almost wanted to laugh at the boy, a wave of nostalgia came flooding back as that same boy mumbling apologies that he didn’t mean, but was forced to say. “No offense taken,” he replied. Anna, however, immediately did not like the boy. Her blue eyes widen and she began angrily babbling at him. 

“DEH DEH DEH DEH DEH,” her little finger pointed at him. “DEH DEH DEH DEH!”

“Hey it’s not polite to point,” scolded Norman as Anna continued. “I say, it’s not very polite to point baby!” But Anna was unrelenting. She kept pointing and spewing off her gibberish while Norman tried to explain to her that she was being impolite. The sight was comical a baby and a little boy arguing, and if she was anything like her father, Anna would not stop arguing ever.

“Norman that’s quite enough,” Dorothy rushed over. Booker took the time to study her. She was a pretty woman, with bright grey eyes and yellow hair pulled into a neat bun though little wisps were trying to escape. She couldn’t have been much younger than he was, maybe seventeen or eighteen. She was a bit on the tall side for a woman, standing straight, Booker would have guessed she would have come up to his nose and he was no short man himself. “I’m sorry sir. You know how little boys are.” 

“I do,” nodded Booker. “I was just telling the kid here that no offense was taken.”

“At least not by you,” she indicated the still shouting baby who was waving her hands violently and shaking her head. “The little one there does not seem to like anyone insulting their father.”

Booker snorted. “Yeah she’s something else.” Anna finally stopped and turned around, hearing the subject was about her this time. Norman folded his arms and harrumphed at the baby who was now set on ignoring him. Her fist found its way to her mouth as she gnawed away, now listening to whatever the grownups had to say. 

“Anyways I should get this youngster back home,” Dorothy took Norman’s hand once more. “Again I apologize for his comment earlier. Even if it doesn’t offend you, he needs learn how to be a gentleman and not say such things. Well it was nice meeting you Mr…” 

“Booker DeWitt,” he extended his hand. “This here is Anna.” As if on cue, Anna beamed up at the woman. Dorothy felt her heart melt a little as she took his hand in hers in a friendly shake. 

“Dorothy Small,” she introduced. “This is Norman Hanson, my ward.” Norman took Booker’s hand, squeezing as hard as he could. Booker refrained from squeezing back for fear of crushing his smaller hands, though some small part of him wanted to. “Norman! That’s it! We’re going home!” Dorothy snatched the boy by the ear and stalked off. “Good day Mr. DeWitt.”

“I’ll see you around Ms. Small,” he held back from laughing at the sight. Norman was being dragged away complaining about Dorothy pulling on his ear. Dorothy was scolding Norman the whole way until they were out of sight. Anna glanced back at her father, who shrugged. She leaned forward, as if trying to see the woman again. “She’d be a good nanny for you. Too bad she’s already taken.” If Booker didn’t know any better, he would have thought Anna was nodding to what he said. “Come on, let’s get back home, I think we’ve been out long enough.”


	3. Chapter 3

They had gotten home later than Booker wanted to, but he was relieved that as soon as he fed Anna, she went back to sleep while he worked on his case a little. There was not much to look into about Thomas Higgins, he was a factory worker who rally men who were done pleading for a union. Once they realized asking nicely wasn’t going to work, they had taken to violent measures, destroying equipment, attempts at assault, nothing unusual, just that this man did this more frequently than most and wasn’t ashamed to show his face about it. 

This was what Booker didn’t like about his job. In his opinion, Higgins was in the right they needed to be treated less like animals and more like people. It’s what started all that trouble with Daisy Fitzroy and Fink. They were treated like second class people with no rights, they were expected to give their labor. Although, Booker was quite relieved to see that wasn’t going to happen now that Comstock… Erm… He was no longer an issue. Booker dismissed his thoughts about Higgins being right about what he thought though, he wasn’t being paid for his opinion.

He turned off the lamps in his office, wishing he’d had an actual home to go to, not cooped up in this small space. As he readied his self for bed, he was startled by a sudden knock at his door. A sinking feeling in his stomach set, wondering if things were about to repeat themselves. What if it was Robert Lutece asking him to hand over Anna?

I tell him to go to Hell, he thought. They are not getting my little girl again!

‘Again,’ Booker sighed. Just the thought that he’d done it in a dream once was more than enough.

The knocking continued with urgency, Booker prepared all the ‘nice’ ways to tell Robert and Comstock to leave as he strode to the door. Much to his surprise – and delight – it was not Robert Lutece waiting on the other side of the door. It was the woman he’d met earlier, Dorothy Small, in much worse condition than he’d seen her a few hours ago. Her left eye was darkened and swollen and her lip was split open, still slightly bleeding. Her once neat appearance looked distraught like she’d just walked out of a bar brawl Booker often found himself in. 

“Mr. DeWitt,” Dorothy finally spoke though he didn’t miss the pained expression on her face as she did. Booker stepped out of the way and allowed her entrance to the office. If she didn’t approve of it, she didn’t say anything about it. She stepped inside but didn’t go much further until Booker offered her a chair to sit in at his desk. 

“What happened to you,” he walked about his office grabbing a rag and a bottle of whiskey. She gratefully accepted both, dabbing her lip and hissing every so often.

“We didn’t quite make it home as quickly as I wanted to,” she began. Dorothy began wringing her shaking hands as she continued. “Norman’s father, Mr. Hanson, owns one of the steel mills. He’s a good man to his home staff, but apparently that’s as far as his courtesy goes. We were cut off of the path home by a few angered workers, all following the example of Mr. Higgins, Mr. Hanson’s biggest trouble. They took Norman as a way to force negotiations, sending me to Mr. Hanson. My brother-in-law Samuel, he said he worked with you Mr. DeWitt, sent me to you saying that you needed this information and that you’ve been assigned to chasing down Higgins.”

When she finished her story, she bit the inside of her lip, there was something else that wasn’t being said, but she wasn’t going to tell him. Perhaps it was because she did not know Booker, but he had a feeling it had something to do with the tears in her dress. “Was Thomas Higgins there at the time of the attack?”

“Yes I think so,” she nodded. “There was one man they all deferred to.” Booker reached into the file he’d been given and pulled out a picture of Higgins from his military days. She inspected the picture for only a second before she gave it back with a gasp. “Yes Mr. DeWitt that’s him.” 

“Where did this happen,” Booker was writing all information down. He tried to be sympathetic, but in truth he only wanted to finish the case as soon as possible. He didn’t want to leave Anna alone for too long, he felt like he had so much to make up to her after Columbia – whether that was a dream or not. 

“Main Street,” she recalled. “When Sam told me to seek you out immediately, I wasted no time. I wanted to get this information to you while my memory was still fresh. Mr. DeWitt, Sam has told me all about your reputation. It is none of my business, all I want is for Norman to be brought home swiftly and safely. I’m sure even Mr. Hanson would be willing to compensate you for your service to his family. I’ll do whatever I can to help, but please, the quicker Norman gets home, the better I’ll feel.”

“Sam,” Booker drew out the name. “You’re related to Moorely? Pfft he would bring my reputation up at a time like this. At any rate, I can’t just go running out tonight down Main Street and hope to catch someone. I can get started first thing in the morning, otherwise there is nothing else I can tell you.”

“I- Okay Mr. DeWitt,” She stood to leave, a little woozy on her feet until Booker helped to steady her. “Thank you for seeing me in so late.” 

“Don’t mention it,” he escorted her to the door. “Will you be alright to make it home alone?”

“You can’t very well leave the little one here by herself,” waved off Dorothy. “I’ll be fine Mr. DeWitt, thank you for the concern.”

Booker wanted to say ‘as fine as you are now,’ but that would have been unnecessary. Instead he gave her a nod before checking the halls in case she was followed. He shut the door behind her, almost hearing Elizabeth yell at him for letting her go alone. He couldn’t believe he was thinking it, but he almost missed Elizabeth’s constant nagging, questions, and comments. He missed being an actual hero to his daughter, not just a provider, but someone she looked to with awe.

“Booker,” her voice rang in his head. “That was AMAZING!” Her large blue eyes wide in admiration as he took down the airships attacking the rebels single-handedly. Booker had to admit he was a little amazed too that he did it without being blasted into bits. Especially when he realized there was a Motorized Patriot waiting for him. 

Now he was a Pinkerton doing just the opposite of what his daughter once thought so highly of him. Now he was just like one of Fink’s men doing all the dirty work for the people that lived high on the hog while others struggled just to eat. Perhaps once his job was over – considering he didn’t get fired anyways – he’d try to find different work. One that didn’t ask him to go against his morals. 

He stood in front of his door debating whether or not he should have gone after Dorothy just to be safe. For Elizabeth’s sake he wanted to. But for Anna’s he didn’t want to leave her alone. He made his final decision and turned away from the door. If Dorothy said she’d be fine, then she would be fine. He stripped down until he was in nothing but his undershirt and pants before he threw himself down on his lumpy bed, too tired to care that it felt like he was sleeping on cobblestone and his back would probably be sore in the morning.

And was it ever sore if the morning.

Booker woke to the sound of a baby crying. He cursed as he dragged his self over to Anna’s door, stopping suddenly when he heard voices from the other side.

“You say he slept right through your entrance?”

“You saw him, he was dead asleep when we got here.”

“Yes but it’s the dead part that makes me wonder.”

“Just shut up and grab the kid, I don’t know how much longer DeWitt will be-“

Booker threw the door open, two men had entered his home while he was asleep, one had Anna in his arms, the other stood with a pistol aimed at the door. Anna’s crying continued, these men were very obviously not her father and she didn’t like them at all. She frowned and reached for Booker as soon as she saw him. Rage coursed through Booker’s body, he wanted to rip the two men to shreds. The one with the pistol looked uncertain, like he didn’t know whether to shoot Booker, or to stand there stupidly. The one holding the baby, seemed more confident, he knew he held the ace in his arms. All he had to do was drop Anna and it was all over for Booker.

Or so he thought. 

Booker lunged for the man with the pistol, taking out the first obstacle. He snatched the hand holding the weapon before bringing up the opposite hand and landing blow after blow in the man’s face until his grip weakened and he let go. With a pistol-whipping to the head, man number one was down. That just left the one holding Anna. That was going to be a considerable challenge. 

“Let her go,” warned Booker. “Or I’ll-“

“You’ll what Mr. DeWitt? Anything happens to me and this baby dies as well,” he threatened. “Mr. Higgins will give you your daughter back when that bastard Hanson strikes a deal with us. In the meantime we can’t have any Pinks standing in our way.” He moved slowly towards the door, taking care to keep Anna out ahead of him incase Booker got any funny ideas. As he got to the door, he turned his back to the open office space, he did not notice a figure standing behind him with a large empty whiskey bottle in hand that was smashed over his head. Shards of glass fell everywhere, including on Anna as a sharp shard sliced her plump cheek. She stopped for a second, allowing her lungs to fill with air before letting out the saddest sounding cry Booker had ever heard. 

“De de de de,” she reached out her tiny hands for her father again. Booker took his chance while the intruder was dazed he snatched his daughter back throwing the man to the ground. He kicked the man in the nose, temporarily knocking him out. 

 

When Booker got a good look at his daughter’s savior, he was shocked to see it was none other than Ms. Small with a broken bottle neck. She looked sheepishly at Booker, but the expression changed quickly to horror when she realized that she had hurt Anna. “Mr. DeWitt I’m so sorry I didn’t mean-.”

“Take Anna and leave,” growled Booker as he checked the ammunition in the weapon. It was full, just what he was hoping. “Wait for me outside.” 

“Mr. DeWitt-.”

“DO IT,” he barked. She looked unsettled about the gun in his hand but complied none the less. She had barely made it out of the room when she had to stifle a scream of her own at the sound of yelling and a gun going off repeatedly. 

Anna still cried but they made it outside without incident. Dorothy was bouncing Anna, apologizing to the baby like she could understand. But Dorothy did feel bad that the scratch on her cheek was her fault. She hoped it didn’t scar, though she supposed if it did, it’d only make her look more like her father with all the scars he had on his face. “There, there it’s alright,” she patted the baby’s back until Anna rested her head on her shoulder, still sniffling but at least she wasn’t crying like before. They waited only another second before she was met with Booker, to her horror. He was covered in blood, she was certain was not his own, but the look in his green eyes was nearly as terrifying as the blood itself. They were staring ahead intensely, like he was not yet satisfied with the two lives he claimed today. So early in the morning. “M-Mr. DeWitt?”

“Call me Booker,” he said as he took Anna from her. The intense look never left his eyes, but he seemed to calm himself quite a bit. Or maybe Dorothy was imagining that because he hadn’t killed her yet. Though the way he stared forward, not making eye contact with anyone but at the same time taking in his surroundings so intently he probably could have heard a pin drop even on the bustling street, Dorothy wasn’t so sure it didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

“Booker,” she repeated. “I’m so sorry about Anna and those men. Good Lord if something happened to her I don’t think I could ever forgive myself.”

Though her words were sincere, it was hearing that she was the cause of putting his daughter’s life in jeopardy that seemed to anger him more. His green eyes darkened for a moment, before his wriggling daughter snapped him out of it. Dorothy should have considered herself lucky that the baby was there, if Anna hadn’t been, Booker didn’t know if he would have been able to control his temper. But seeing as he didn’t want to trouble Anna anymore, he simply grunted but did not respond.

He began walking, though he wasn’t quite sure where he was going. Where was the last place Dorothy said Higgins would be? Booker had a sudden desire to rip someone to shreds and since Dorothy was a lady, and he would never hurt his daughter, he had to settle on the next best thing. To hell if he was fired for it, he’d gladly sign the papers of his termination with a smile. 

“Please Booker,” Dorothy followed him. “If there’s anything I can do to make up for that, please let me try! I don’t want to be your enemy.” Booker stopped for a second, the scratch was caused from her attempt to help. Those men knew where he lived because she wanted to help. Her employer’s son was kidnapped because she was looking over him. As far as Booker was concerned, if anyone could cause more trouble while helping, it was Dorothy. He looked over at her, she did seem like she was really Hell-bent on doing something and he only needed her to care for Anna maybe for a day or two. 

“Alright,” he said with a sigh. “I want you to take Anna. Go somewhere, don’t tell me where, just go for the next few days. In two days I want you to meet me here in front of the building. If I’m not back by then-.” I’m more than likely dead, he thought. “Make sure Anna is taken care of.” 

Dorothy considered the words for a moment. He couldn’t have been seriously thinking of charging off into battle against the man who had rallied up so many men, to single handedly dispose of Higgins. What about Anna, he said to make sure she was taken care of, but how was she supposed to do that? She opened her mouth to argue, but Booker held up his hand. “That’s all you can do Ms. Small. I’m going to get that son of a bitch Higgins for what he did.” 

“Booker…” She didn’t like the idea. But when Booker turned around to face her, she gasped. There was no arguing with him, he was dead set on catching the man, and he would do it if it killed him. He waited for whatever it was she had to say. “Just Dorothy would be fine if you please.” She took Anna, who still was not happy at all with anything that had happened that day.

Booker nodded, he leaned over and placed an uncharacteristic kiss on the baby’s cheek before he set off in the direction of Main Street. “And Dorothy.” 

Dorothy’s attention snapped up. “Yes?”

“Make sure you’re not followed.” He said sternly. 

Dorothy nodded shamefully, “Yes Mr. DeWitt.”


	4. Chapter 4

It was just past noon that Booker arrived on Main Street. He looked for any signs of Higgins or his men, and so far he got as far as he thought he would - which was a whole lot of nothing. But that did not stop the Pinkerton from pressing on. Booker was going to find Thomas Higgins and he was going to tear him apart limb by limb. He stopped for lunch, having not eaten since yesterday morning. As he sat by himself, he listened to the conversations around him, hoping that he’d overhear something about his intended target. For most of his lunch he’d heard nothing, just complaints about the factories, but nothing of note. More hours and less pay seemed to be the common theme coming from everyone’s mouth.

“George and Noah still haven’t come back today,” said a man sitting behind Booker. “They were supposed to get that girl from that Pink and bring her to Tom. Even he’s beginning to think they were caught.” 

“I don’t know,” said his companion. “I’ve heard about this DeWitt character. A nasty fellow, he had quite a reputation at Wounded Knee.”

“Yeah some of the workers were telling me about how he works,” said the first. Booker looked back, silently praying he wouldn’t be noticed. They were sitting across from each other, a man in his forties and another in his late twenties. The younger man, the one he suspected to be the first speaker, leaned heavily over the table to not be over heard while the second guy sat back in his chair, he felt safe in his surroundings as most of the clientele were workers like themselves who barely had enough for this lunch if it hadn’t been for Higgins charity. The older man sighed heavily, “well with any luck we’ll hear from them later. Maybe they’re on their way to Tom now.” 

The second man looked doubtful and shook his head. “I don’t know Bill,” he replied sadly. “I have a bad feeling we won’t be seeing them anytime soon.” 

Booker felt an immense sense of relief that he’d finally gotten a start. Two men who knew about Tom and the deal to get Anna, it wasn’t much, but he could work with that. All Booker had to do was wait, and something told him, he’d get so much more.

 

Dorothy hadn’t the slightest clue what she was going to do with Anna. She couldn’t very well go back to her employer’s house with her when someone could be waiting for them there. She couldn’t go back to her own home since it didn’t exist. She supposed she could have gone to her mother’s house, but she didn’t want to talk about marriage again plus with the addition of a stranger’s child. That could get very out of hand, very quickly. She kept walking down crowded streets, avoiding anywhere there weren’t at least a dozen people in view. Perhaps she could rent a room for the next two nights, but she didn’t know if she had the funding for that. 

“Doesn’t hurt to try I suppose,” she mumbled. 

None of the rooms would allow her to bring a baby with her without paying double. Dorothy sighed defeated. She had no idea what she was going to do. She knew she had to protect Anna at all cost before she ended up like the two men in Booker’s office. Dorothy knew that was very possible and that he’d considered it after she’d hurt the baby, and it frightened her. “So do you think my mother would believe me if I told her I was just doing a favor for someone who works with Maria’s husband?” 

Anna looked up quizzing at Dorothy. She had been silent most of the day, all cried out and the pain subsiding. She’d get fussy once in a while, but Dorothy wondered if it had more to do with the baby missing her father. With a sudden frown and a squeak, Dorothy nodded. “Yeah me either.” 

The walk to her mother’s house was a short one and she was relieved to see that she was home. With a deep breath, she knocked on the door, and was greeted by her mother, Lily Small. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight of Dorothy with a baby girl in one arm and her face bruised and battered. “Dorothy!” She cried as she pulled her daughter inside. “Do come in! What happened? Your face? Who is this child?” 

Dorothy knew better to interrupt her mother’s string of questions otherwise she’d just ask them all again. Finally her mother paused and Dorothy began to answer. She told her the story of Norman’s kidnap, the workers who had broken into Booker’s office and tried to take Anna as well, she finished with the story of Thomas Higgins and how his story connected Booker and Dorothy. What she did not mention was the disappearance of the two men, the gun shots, or the blood all over Booker. Her mother took in what she needed to know. “Darling I’m so glad you’re alright, but are you so sure it’s safe to be walking around with someone’s baby? Especially when a bunch of ruffians like Higgins are willing to get violent just to make a point?” 

“Well,” Dorothy looked sheepishly at Lily. “That is why I’m here. I can’t go anywhere those men might know about me and Anna, and I told Mr. DeWitt that I’d watch over her while he made sure that this Higgins was no longer a threat. I was hoping we could stay here for a few nights?” Her mother’s face hardened for a second before Dorothy took her hands into her own. “Please mother, I have nowhere else to go! It’ll only be for two days and then Anna goes back to her father.”

Lily still looked uncertain, she watched Anna crawl around and explore the large room was she placed in. The longer she explored, the bigger the tugging her heart strings. She was certainly a beautiful baby, the way her blue eyes shined as she held up various knick-knacks and cooed at them just before trying to bite them. It reminded Lily of her daughters, each one of them as curious as the little girl now. “Oh Dorothy, but what if they come here?”

“All the more reason she needs us,” pushed Dorothy. “Can you really stand to see someone just harm an innocent child like Anna simply so they can get at Mr. Hanson?”

“Mr. Hanson,” scoffed Lily. “Why ever did you take the job from that man in the first place? He’s nothing more than a pushy, no good, thief! That mill was your father’s long before he swiped it out from under us!”

“I know mother, but I-.” 

“Never mind it,” waved of Lily as she tapped her foot impatiently until a pressure stopped it. When she glanced down to see what it was, she saw Anna looking up at her. Her big blue eyes capturing her own, as Anna silently asked if she could stay, she knew she didn’t stand a chance to say no. “Alright, a few days shouldn’t be so bad. It’ll be nice to have a little one around the house. Heaven only knows neither of my daughters is going to give me any grandchildren any time soon.”   
Dorothy had a bad feeling this conversation was just waiting to happen and her mother was just itching for an opportunity to bring it up. Trying to dodge being the subject, Dorothy replied, “Isn’t Maria planning on having children with Sam?”

“If she ever sees him,” Lily sighed dramatically. “He’s always working and Maria barely sees him at all.” Dorothy didn’t know the men in Pinkerton were worked so hard. She wondered briefly about Booker and Anna, and wondered how he was balancing raising a child while being run ragged with work all the time. Though, when she thought about all the empty bottles of whiskey and beer in his office, she had a faint suspicion that he wasn’t handling the stress well. “Where is the girl’s mother? You’ve referenced her father a few times, but her mother-?”

“She died a few months back,” answered Dorothy. Something passed over Anna’s eyes that moment, like she knew who they were talking about and she looked almost sad. “Sam told me that Mr. DeWitt didn’t handle her death all that well, but he’s been raising the baby on his own.”

“Poor man,” Lily said as she bounced Anna whose demeanor still seemed different from her usual babbling self. “It’s a wonder he doesn’t try to find another nice girl to help him care for her.”

“Well her death was pretty recent,” replied Dorothy. “Perhaps his heart is not yet ready to move on.”

“I know that, but even someone to help around the house. Like a nanny or a young woman who works for a thieving, conniving, black-hearted, no-conscious, man such as Mr. Hanson!” 

Dorothy bit the inside of her lip, should’ve seen that one coming. In all honesty, she was surprised her mother was just now waiting to ask about Booker. Dorothy sighed; it was going to be a long two days.

 

Booker wiped the blood from his lip as he stumbled away from the alley he had dragged the two conversing men from. A fight of two men against one, he could take easily. Three, would be difficult, and four would be pushing his limit, but six men did tend to win a fight much easier than Booker by himself. That was to say, he acquitted his self quite well, even got the information he needed from the first two men, it was when the rest jumped in that Booker knew he was in trouble. 

He repeated the address in his head again and again as he stalked down the streets of New York. ‘210 New Avenue,’ not a far distance, but certainly a considerable one on foot. But the more he walked the more he reminded himself of Columbia, and how far he had to walk then though Booker did slightly miss the skyhooks as they were a much more convenient method of travel instead of storming through New York like a mad man. If those men were trustworthy, he’d find Higgins, and more importantly he’d destroy him. 

For a while he almost regretted what he was going to have to do to Higgins. He respected the man for his want to fight for his people, but he made the fatal error of threatening Anna and therefore there was no way he was going to let that slide. Anything else, Booker may have just let the poor bastard go. He had heard the name Hanson before, he knew about the steel mills and how the people were treated there, and as far as Booker was concerned, this was what Hanson deserved. 

Booker picked up the speed when he turned down New Avenue, wondering if maybe he should have killed those men on the off chance they would warn Higgins of Booker’s arrival. He counted the buildings, looking for his number, ignoring the people on the streets. With any luck, Booker would have just found the house, shot Higgins, and would be home within a day. But if Booker was basing anything on his own luck, he could be assured that everything was about to go horribly wrong. 

And it did.

Booker heard the shot before he even felt the pain rip through his left arm. For a moment he wondered how the hell anyone would know what he was there for. But when he turned around he noticed the men from the cafe, the ones he had beaten to a pulp for the information. They stepped out of the carriage and apparently shot Booker while he was looking the other way. While the pain was great, Booker silently thanked them for having terrible aim. If they had been good with a weapon, Booker would have left this job unfinished, and that would not do. 

This did leave the problem of being distracted long enough to finish these men off once and for all. He charged in full force, still branding the pistol from his office that the two dead men carried while they tried to take Anna. He also brought a back-up, which was his own pistol just in case. Two shot were all he needed, one for the tall young man, whose head snapped back the instant the bullet pierced between his eyes. The other hit the second, older man, in the neck. He gurgled before dropping to his knees, hands flying to his throat in a vain attempt to stop the blood. Booker approached the dying man, lifting him by the collar of his shirt with his good arm.

“This is your last chance to tell me the truth,” warned Booker. “Tell me and I’ll make it quick. Stay quiet and you can drown in your own blood for all I care.” The man spit blood in Booker’s face. Booker sighed, he had a feeling it would come to this. “Fine by me.” He dropped the name, none too kindly, before continuing his search. His arm throbbed painfully, try as he might to ignore it, he gritted his teeth as he continued down the street. The wound wouldn’t kill him, even with as painful as it was he could have sworn he’d had far worse done to him, and so he didn’t let it take him from his mission. He needed to find Higgins! It was the only way he’d be able to protect Anna. 

People on the street were still screaming and running at the commotion. Booker hadn’t noticed any of them until now when a group of young men were trying to lead him to a doctor. Booker struggled to get away, he had to find Higgins before it was too late, before he skipped town and Booker lost his chance. “Goddammit it,” he growled as he kept fighting the crowd. “Leave me alone!”

“Sir you’re hurt,” said a female voice this time. It sounded vaguely familiar, but not enough that Booker could actually recall who it was. Just that he’d heard it not too long ago. She was a short woman, with short blonde hair tied neatly on her head her eyes were deep amber. She certainly was pretty, and more so familiar. “You need to see a doctor!”

“I’m fine,” he barked. “Now leave me be, I’m busy.”

“It’s no use Booker,” Booker cringed at the second voice. No wonder she was familiar, Dorothy said Moorely was her brother-in-law. Booker scowled at Moorely, who did not look at all impressed with Booker’s actions. “Higgins knew you’d be coming. He left town even before his boys came after your kid.” 

“How?”

“Your reputation is well known,” said Moorely grimly. “If someone told me to kidnap the ‘White Injun’s’ child, I would leave too. Especially someone who’s see you in combat at Wounded Knee.” Booker’s hand curled into a fist, he very much wanted to hit something. “With that being said, Norman Hanson is still missing with Higgins. I don’t know how far he’s willing to go to cut a deal with his father, but I don’t think Higgins is going to release Norman until something is settled. Booker, you and I both know that after this display, you’re as good as fired from Pinkerton.”

“Then it’s not my problem anymore.” 

“What if it were your own kid?”

To Booker that was a trick question, because no one, except maybe Songbird (which Booker would be lucky if he never saw that thing again for as long as he lived) would take Anna from him. And even if Songbird was suddenly created, Booker shuddered at the thought; he wouldn’t be wasting time seeking help. He’d rush in, guns blazing until everyone who was involved in her kidnap was dead. “It’s not my kid, and it’s not my problem.” He answered coldly. 

Moorely shook his head. “You’re a real piece of work aren’t you DeWitt,” Moorely accused. Booker didn’t say anything, finally able to shake off the last of the herd of men. “Always looking out for yourself, thinking you’re too good for everyone else. But look at you, you left the army, you were fired from Pinkerton, and if those betting slips are any indication you’re up to your ass in debt, all of this while pretending to be some good father!” 

“And what,” Booker raised his voice. “One good deed and all of a sudden my sins just vanish? You think anything I do will change a damn thing?”

“Hanson would pay handsomely for the boys return,” said Maria from the side thoughtfully. “Perhaps that would change something. You could pay your debts, you could spend it all on drinking, or you could care for your daughter but everyone wins if you just say yes.”

Booker bit back a long defeated sigh, she had a very good point everyone would win. But that didn’t mean that he wanted to go around New York (considering Higgins was even still in New York). Moorely knew just by looking at him, that Booker was going to change him mind, and smiled smugly. “Fine,” Booker threw up his hands in defeat. “But I expect to be paid for this. I’m not going on some wild goose chase for some kid who may or may not still be alive.” 

“You were going after Higgins anyway.” 

“For my own reasons,” countered Booker. “None of them involves the Hanson’s in any way. Now I have to go about this carefully or they’ll kill him. And I’m not going to spend all that time away from Anna for nothing.” 

“Anna,” repeated Moorely. After digging around on Booker and his family, he saw that Annabelle DeWitt, late wife of Booker DeWitt, had died in childbirth. Such a thing was common, but Moorely didn’t think Booker would have named the child after his dead wife. He would have expected a name that would take his mind away of the woman he lost because of that baby. 

Booker seemed to catch the thoughtful look on Sam’s face, which he fought the urge to hit. He knew Sam was looking for some kind of dirt on Booker so he would lose his job, it wouldn’t surprise him if he’d found out about Annabelle and how she’d died. But it angered Booker that he was being watched so close so that Sam could finally have his day that Booker DeWitt finally got his. “Yeah, Anna.”

“I see,” the shorter man put an arm around his wife. “Well then we’ll have something arranged for your daughter. Darling perhaps Dorothy wouldn’t mind watching the newest DeWitt while Booker does the job for her employer?”

“I’m almost sure she would,” nodded Maria. “But that can wait. For now Mr. DeWitt, you should see a doctor about that arm before it gets infected.” 

Booker finally let out the long sigh he was holding in since the conversation began. This was going to be a long week.


	5. Chapter 5

Dorothy hated staying at her mother’s house for two reasons. One was the pushy mother who was constantly nagging at her for working when it was a man’s job to work while a woman kept the house. The other reason was, like magic, her older sister Maria Moorely (now that she was married) would visit her mother whenever Dorothy was over, and join her mother in nagging. 

Today was like any other in that aspect. 

She was pacing the house, feeding the fussy Anna DeWitt when Dorothy had heard her mother’s cry of surprise and joy. “Maria! What a pleasant surprise! Come in darling. And Sam how nice it is to see you both!” Dorothy groaned quietly in the next room to avoid being heard. Anna suckled happily on the bottle to care what was going on around her as her eyes drooped slowly. Dorothy could have jumped for joy that Anna was beginning to finally give in to the alluring call of sleep. That’s it, inwardly cheered Dorothy. Just a little more and they’ll be closed all the way. It’s time for sleep because we’ve had a very long day today. I’m tired, you’re tired, let’s not fight this anymore. Anna had just barely closed her eyes and Dorothy breathed a sigh of relief. 

Until Maria decided to stick her head in. 

“My God,” cried Maria. Anna’s eyes shot open at the sudden noises, making Dorothy groan again. “What happened to your face?!”

Dorothy tried to shush her, but the damage was done, Anna was awake and she didn’t like it one bit. She balled her tiny hands into fists and cried loudly. How did Booker deal with this by himself? Maria rushed to her sister, trying to get a better look at her younger sister’s battered face. “Oh Dorothy who did this to you? Was it that scoundrel Higgins?” 

“I am surprised Sam did not mention it to you last night,” Dorothy bounced Anna in some vain attempt to get her to sleep again. “He did tell you he ran into me last night?”

“He did,” Maria still inspected Dorothy’s face trying not to bump into the baby Dorothy was holding. 

“Perhaps he didn’t want you to worry,” shrugged Dorothy. “It looks worse than it actually is,” she lied. Truthfully she was sore all over, and her eye felt like it was making some attempt to escape the socket. Those men had done a number on her, but she didn’t want her sister to worry either. God only knew if Maria worried, she would never give Dorothy a moment’s rest. 

However, her lie seemed to have appeased her sister as Maria took a step back. “Who is this little one?” Anna’s wailing had quieted from being too busy observing the newest woman in the room. Her large eyes looked Maria up and down, like she was trying to judge what she thought about the woman hovering around. Dorothy noticed this but didn’t say anything, from the day she had first seen Anna, she knew the baby was nosey.

“This is Anna DeWitt,” introduced Dorothy. “Her father-.”

“DeWitt?” Repeated Maria. “Her father isn’t Booker DeWitt is he? We just passed him today on the street.” 

This relieved Dorothy immensely. While she knew that should anything happen to Booker she could have easily dropped the girl off at an orphanage, it would have broken her heart to see the man that Anna adored so much was suddenly ripped from her life. The odds of her remembering her father, at such a young age, were slim but Dorothy would remember the way she immediately calmed down after her father took her in his arms and the way she scolded Norman for his halfhearted apology. Something told Dorothy that even though Anna was so young, she would remember Booker always.

“How is Mr. DeWitt,” asked Dorothy curiously. “Is he any closer to finding that dreadful Higgins?”

Maria shook her head sadly, “No when I had last seen him, we escorted him to a doctor. The doctor said he’d be alright, but Higgins may have gotten away for all they know. Sam seems to think Mr. DeWitt is going to lose his job for this last incident.”

“What incident?”

“Well he accosted some men for information on Mr. Higgins,” explained Maria. “They had really sent him to an ambush. He was shot in the arm and he killed the men who had attacked him.”

“Then he should be pardoned for defending himself,” said Dorothy angrily. “Why would they fire him?”

“Mr. DeWitt has quite a violent streak. They’ll think he did something to instigate this, especially because of his means of information, and he’ll be fired,” Maria looked a bit regretful to tell her the last part because Anna was in the room. Granted the baby couldn’t understand, it was still bad form to talk negatively about someone’s father right in front of them. “Mr. Hanson has agreed to pay Mr. DeWitt handsomely if he can track-down Norman and get rid of Thomas Higgins for good. And he’s also agreed to pay your wages while you take care of the baby while Mr. DeWitt is away.” 

Dorothy looked confused, she would be watching Anna, when did she agree to this? She said she wanted to help Booker anyway she could, but this was not what she’d had in mind. She thought of that shabby office he lived in with Anna and sighed, she was expected to stay there. Where would she sleep? Certainly not in that small bed with him – though she did blush at the thought. She didn’t want to argue about it though, it was work and she supposed she should have been grateful that Mr. Hanson was still willing to pay her though it was in her company that Norman was abducted. She glanced down at the baby, who had finally drifted to sleep in her arms, and sighed at least the company could have been so much worse. 

Booker tossed and turned as he tried to lay in a comfortable enough position to finally sleep. His eyes kept drifting to the door where his daughter’s crib sat empty. Booker kept repeating to himself that she was sent away to protect her, she was not in Columbia, there would be no Columbia, and that in a few days he’d have his daughter back safely. The words were comforting but just barely as some irrational paranoia grabbed a hold of his heart and squeezed ever now and then that she wouldn’t be back. 

His arm had settled into a dull throb, not painful, but certainly uncomfortable enough to keep him thinking about it. He should have been paying better attention to his surrounding or trusted his instincts when it came to killing those men. What did he save them by keeping them alive for a few short hours? 

“That is the last time I let someone get the jump on me.” He had once said. Apparently not. 

He looked at his right hand tracing the line that he had remembered being a deep gash from a knife. The familiar dull throb reminded him of his journey throughout Columbia as he fought Columbian and Vox alike in the attempt to save Elizabeth from Comstock or from his self. He sighed and rolled onto his good arm, he needed rest and he knew he needed it well before the doctor had told him so but he needed to protect Anna first. Anna was all that mattered, her safety was his first and only priority and if it killed him he’d do whatever it took to keep her safe. 

Booker thought about the river, where he had let Anna drown him. The only way they could stop Comstock was by never giving him a chance to be born, but why was Booker still there? How did he get a second chance? Or was this opportunity one hundred twenty four? Booker groaned as he hid his face under the covers, even the whiskey he’d managed to chug down was not helping to quiet his mind. Now he just felt heavy in his head. He wondered if it was the effect of alcohol, or if it was from all of his thoughts. He forced his eyes shut, trying to make the thoughts go away until sleep finally claimed him.


	6. Chapter 6

Booker woke up to what felt like nails being hammered into his head by a handyman. He tried to turn over and go back to sleep, seeing as the chances of finding Higgins had been reduced quite drastically since last night. Now he was just waiting for the next day to speak with Dorothy about temporarily being Anna’s nanny while he searched for Norman. He didn’t really care for any of it, and Mr. Hanson sure as hell made it known that he didn’t much care for the idea either but for his son he would have done whatever it took.

Booker smirked to his self when he thought about the way he had ‘negotiated’ a price with Phillip Hanson. Perhaps the strikers had the right idea kidnapping the kid as it certainly helped Booker in the end. One thousand dollars would be the payout if Norman was returned safely, five hundred otherwise, and as a bonus he would pay Ms. Small’s salary while Booker ‘borrowed’ her. 

Thinking of Dorothy made him frown. Not because he missed the woman, but because he was almost surprised that after a day he already missed Anna. The fact that she wasn’t in her crib, or crawling around on the floor looking for something to get into, or babbling to him while he listened just made him miss her more. He checked the clock for the time, it was nearly noon. Booker sighed, he’d slept half the day away. When was the last time he was able to do that? He couldn’t recall if he ever had in his whole life and especially not after Anna was born. After she was born he was waking up at odd hours of the night, usually still drunk and stumbling after her. 

He rubbed the throbbing in his temples as he dressed for the day. The cool autumn air seeped into his apartment, soon would be winter, he would need a warmer blanket for Anna. Suddenly he realized that if he returned Norman safely, he could buy Anna a new blanket. He could give her whatever she needed blankets, clothing, food, toys if she wanted it Booker would gladly give it to her. All he had to do was return Norman safely to Phillip Hanson.

Booker threw open the door to leave his office, he tried to play it cool but he was startled by Moorely standing arm raised as though he were going to knock. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

 

“Well good afternoon to you too,” mocked Sam. “I see you’re hard at work as usual.” 

“I’m busy so if there’s nothing else you need,” Booker gestured down the hall. 

“I saw your daughter yesterday,” Moorely walked with Booker as they departed. “Pretty little thing. She doesn’t look a thing like you.” When Booker stopped down the hall, Moorely shook his head. “She’s with Dorothy at her mother’s. Believe me if anyone can protect Anna it’s her. I think she’d nag the strikers to death.”

“Good,” Booker began to walk once more. “I could use all the help I can get because without a lead to Higgins, I could be at this for a long time.”

Moorely snorted, “Please you’re like a bloodhound DeWitt. Once you get someone’s scent, you’ll hunt them into the very bowels of hell. I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard especially since you no longer have Pinkerton stopping you. Which, by the way, they wish to see you today for exactly that reason.”

Booker sighed, he knew it was coming and he did say he would gladly accept his dismissal with a smile for Anna. But now he was stuck looking for another job which he didn’t think many people would exactly feel comfortable working with an Ex-Pinkerton. “Shit.” He mumbled.

“Look on the bright side DeWitt,” Moorely clapped him on the back. “You never have to deal with me again.”

“Is that why you’re so cheerful?”

“Precisely.”

When Dorothy was a child, the sound of thunder was enough to send her hiding under her covers until her mother or father came in her room to comfort her. When she grew older she learned how the thunder could not hurt her, and the lightning could not as long as she had shelter. She watched now in no fascination but depression as the storm raged on outside. She had hoped to stop at the market for some essentials Anna would need today, but it looked like walking in this dreaded weather was not going to happen. Instead, she was stuck inside trying to comfort the child who, much like herself, did not much care for the storm. 

Dorothy sighed as Anna buried her head in the woman’s neck as though she were trying to burrow into a hiding place. Dorothy just pat the baby’s back and spoke softly as she continued to watch outside. She wondered if Booker was stuck out in the rain today trying to find Higgins. Dorothy heard that he was most likely going to be fired today for the actions of the night before but she also knew that Mr. Hanson was willing to pay a lot of money to see his son returned.

Dorothy had a feeling she was about to be unemployed as well for her inability to protect Norman from being kidnapped in the first place. She hoped he was okay, not for her job sake, but she did genuinely like the little boy. Even with his outbursts, he was a good kid just a little misled from his father. Dorothy wondered what they were doing to him, assuming he was even still alive. Were they hurting him, were they turning him against his father, or were they simply leaving him alone just holding onto him until his father paid his dues? 

Anna whimpered against her neck, bringing Dorothy back to herself. “There there,” she comforted. “It’s alright, I’m sure it’ll soon pass.” 

“I doubt it,” a voice made her jump. She spun around to find Sam soaked from the rain standing in the doorway. “These clouds stretch on for miles and they’re only getting darker.” Dorothy frowned at the news, like it had saddened her, but she didn’t say anything about it. Instead she greeted her brother-in-law before she continued with Anna. “I saw Mr. DeWitt again today. He seems to be in low spirits today.”

“Must be the weather,” suggested Dorothy. 

“I think it has something to do with the bundle in your arms there,” he indicated the baby who was still trying to avert her eyes to the outside. Dorothy didn’t like the tone he used when he mentioned Anna, it was like he wanted something and was going to use Anna to get it. “I wanted to speak with you about her.” 

“Oh?” She tried to sound surprised but it was pretty hard to do. “Is something wrong?”

“Not with her,” Sam shook his head. “But rather with her father. Booker is only good for one thing, being a father is not one of them.”

“I don’t think that’s entirely true,” Dorothy didn’t like where this was going. Anna picked her head up and glanced back at Sam, obviously unhappy about what he was saying about her dad. Dorothy was a bit amazed by the baby’s ability to pick up on words about her father. “I think Booker is a good father willing to do anything, no matter how dangerous, for Anna.” 

“I don’t think he doesn’t love her,” Sam said heatedly. “What I am saying is that he is not the provider he should be. Always drinking, gambling, and killing is that anyway to raise a young lady? You have seen where they live, it is a mess and he does nothing to change it. She needs a stable home with a father that will give her everything.”

“Sam what are you getting at,” Dorothy had a faint suspicion she knew what it was. She just wanted to hear him say it.

“Maria and I have been speaking about it,” he hung his head. Almost like he was ashamed to say the words. “She and I have been unable to produce a child, we’ve tried so hard for a year now and so far we have nothing. But if Anna suddenly went missing, if we were to just leave New York, somewhere Booker cannot find us. I think she would have a home-“

“DE DE DEDEDE DEDE DE!” Hollered Anna. She didn’t like the idea one bit. “DE DE DE DE DE DE DE DE BAH BAH!” 

Dorothy didn’t know what she was saying, but she had a feeling they were thinking the same thing. “I’m sorry Sam but I cannot help you. I am not going to be responsible for another child missing.” 

“But this time it’s for the better,” argued Sam. “Norman’s kidnapping is unfortunate. Her kidnapping would be unfortunate but we can all agree that this is for the best. She’d have a home, a loving mother, a nanny who could care for her, a father who could provide. Can Booker give her any of those things?” 

“Beh beh beh,” grumbled Anna. She still didn’t like the sound of it. As the thunder rolled outside, she didn’t shy away this time. Her eyes locked with Sam’s in a dark glare, much like her father’s did when he heard something he didn’t like. Like this morning as he was being reprimanded and fired from his job as a Pinkerton. 

‘She really is his child,’ he thought angrily. But she was still young, he could break her of that quick. He could wipe the memory of her useless father and replace it with his self. He could make her love him just like he made Maria love him.

“Just think about what I have said,” offered Sam. “Now if you’ll excuse me I have to get back, Maria still insists that we try to have one of our own.” Dorothy said nothing. He should have considered his self lucky that she didn’t run to Booker and tell him what Sam had said. But then the image of a crazed Booker crossed her mind and she shuddered. He could be quite a scary man when he wanted to, and it was rubbing off on Anna who once more did not flinch as the thunder clapped loudly outside.


	7. Chapter 7

Booker paced impatiently in front of his building. Today he was at his breaking point, waking to another quiet morning without Anna. He wanted desperately to see his daughter especially feeling unnerved by all the questions Moorely was asking about her. He considered punching the man in the face, all the more when he asked if maybe she would have been better with a more stable family. Of course Booker thought that, but that didn’t mean he was going to admit that to Sam. 

“What I mean Booker,” said Moorely trying his best to sound sympathizing though all Booker could hear was a condescending tone. “Is that one day she’d going to be too big for that office, you’ll have to teach her how to be a proper, good lady. How would you do that? You’re not a proper, good man yourself.” 

Booker spun around so he was chest to chest with Moorely. “That is the last time I’m going to let you insult me. So just say it one more time.” Moorely said nothing.

Now he was trying to brush the thoughts aside, he was doing alright for a father. Anna never went hungry or cold even if he did, and she seemed to like him enough. He wasn’t the greatest father, nor was he going to pretend he was but there were certainly much worse. Like fathers who sold their child to a complete stranger into a country in the sky. 

That guy was a complete ass.

But that was another thought for another day. Now he was waiting, waiting and watching for Dorothy to show with his daughter. He probably should have emphasized a time as she could have arrived at any moment, day or night. He sincerely hoped it wasn’t going to be night.

He checked his watch for the fifth time in the last hour, only five minutes had passed since the last time he had checked it. He finally leaned against the wall trying to convince his self not to go to Dorothy’s mother’s house and demand his daughter back. 

‘Not a proper, good man yourself,’ the insult rang in his head. What did that even mean? 

He looked like a man, if a little more disheveled, but Booker was never one to care about his appearance. It was one of the things his wife loved about him. Most men put on a façade to try and impress the other women, but Booker was simple. He never looked like a slob, but he wasn’t all that worried if his face had a little stubble on the sides or if his shirt was not tucked in.

He acted like a man, if a little more rough around the edges, but to Booker that was a way of survival. He never wanted people to imagine him as a soft man that was how trouble began. When they underestimate him, he was more than able to prove himself. Especially at Wounded Knee, the horrible things he had done still haunted him. Not because of the men they lost, but because of the things he had done not in defense but to prove a point to a bunch of men who were not worth the time. So many people, the old, the women, the sick, the children, none of it mattered to him who he killed, he just wanted carnage. Now he felt like he’d seen enough to last him the rest of his life. 

But things were never that simple. He still felt the flares in his temper, especially when the cards started to go south. He would be fine one moment, and the next thing he knew he was dragging himself out of another bar wiping the blood from his face as he stumbled home through another drunken haze. 

With a long defeated sigh, Booker hung his head shamed. Maybe he wasn’t a good man at all. Maybe Moorely was right. He felt his depression start to settle in, until a familiar voice cast a light over that dark spot in his heart. 

“Bah de de de de,” a tiny voice caught Booker’s attention immediately. His head snapped up and he glanced around. “Dah dah bah de.”

“My goodness you’re chatty this morning,” said a female voice that Booker also knew. He felt his insides melt a little bit. There they were, Dorothy and Anna. Anna was babbling away, and Dorothy seemed to enjoy the baby’s expressiveness. With a case in the other hand, and Anna in one, they were making their way to Booker. They were both smiling as they walked, Booker was surprised to feel his own lips pulling upwards as he saw little Anna taking in the sights again. “You just can’t wait to get home can you?”

Booker refrained from running at the two like a mad man, instead settling on taking long strides to meet them halfway. Dorothy greeted Booker with a smile before handing the little girl over. Booker responded with a nod and focused instead on his daughter. Anna beamed with a toothless smile at her father, making Booker melt a little more inside. He planted a quick peck on her chubby cheek, which was healing nicely before hugging her close. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed her until she was in his arms again. Anna set her head on his good shoulder, before cooing nonsense. 

“She’s been excited all morning,” Dorothy spoke finally. “I think she missed you something terrible.” 

Booker didn’t say a thing to her, just settled with closing his eyes and listening to Anna’s babbling which had settled into a whisper. Dorothy inwardly cursed Sam for the horrible things he said about Booker being Anna’s father and how he was not a good father to her. Dorothy wished that just for a second Sam could see Booker when he was holding onto Anna. How he softened, ever so slightly but noticeably enough, when she looked up at him with those large blue eyes. 

Yes perhaps he had a problem with drinking, and gambling. But her own father was a heavy drinker, but he never struck his wife or children. He had gotten into his shares of brawls in his day but he never brought his rage home. She knew, though she didn’t know him well, that Booker would be the same. His wife seemed to love him enough to bear a child for him, there had to be something he was doing right. 

“She was running a fever last night briefly,” she continued. Booker’s eyes shot open, panic had already settled in as he opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong. “Easy Mr. DeWitt, she’s teething. Her fevers are going to spike and then come down, it’s perfectly natural. She’ll be crying a lot, not feeling good, but it just means her first tooth is going to be coming soon.”

Booker frowned, she was old enough to teeth already? Her first tooth was nearly here, which would mean her second tooth was next, then all of her teeth, and before he knew it she would be losing those teeth for her adult set, which would mean she was an adult. And Booker had seen her as an adult, as a beautiful young woman and he probably wouldn’t be the only one who thought that, which would mean young men about Booker’s current age would soon be at his door for his permission for her hand in marriage then running away bloodily as Booker made sure they never came back. Booker was not quite yet ready to think about that.

“If you feel right on the front of her gums, it’s a little swollen,” continued Dorothy. “She seems to be chewing a lot too. Hopefully it’ll pass soon and that tooth will break through. Believe me, it’s a long process.” 

“You seem to be an expert at these sorts of things,” Booker said, trying not to think about boys coming to his house. Maybe when she was old enough he could convince her to be a nun. 

“I raised Norman since he was a baby,” explained Dorothy as Booker led them to his office/home. “His teething was terrible, it took so long for all his teeth to come in. The poor thing, his fever would spike, his temper was short, he’d cry and cry and I couldn’t figure out why. Finally I visited my mother, I needed someone who knew about these sorts of things to help me or I think I would have lost my mind. She told me it varies from child to child but you can expect these things.” She added sheepishly, “she was the one who knew Anna was teething last night.” 

Booker was suddenly very thankful that Dorothy would be staying with them for the time being. He was going to need help with this process. He certainly wouldn’t know what to do with a teething child. Dorothy explained everything with such a calm demeanor, she seemed to know just what to do with Anna. 

“Good to know,” nodded Booker as he opened the door to his room. Though it wasn’t much, Dorothy had seen men living in so much worse. Or not living anywhere at all. “It’s not as fancy as Hanson’s place but, it’s home.” He shrugged.

Dorothy didn’t mind the mess, wondering if she could make the shabby place a home or if Booker would even let her. She tilted her head to the side, there was potential somewhere and she was determined to find it. The first thing she noticed would be the curtains, there was no salvaging them, but she knew she could make a newer set, a nicer set. The floors could use a mopping, a real good scrub down. The walls, they were going to be the better part of her effort. The wall paper was yellowed from smoking and in some areas she noticed tearing from years of neglect. She wondered if they were always that way but she said nothing. Finally she noticed all the dust, it was a wonder anyone could breathe in that office.

She set her case down heavily with a soft ‘oof.’ Booker glanced back at her and she smiled apologetic. “You can set your things wherever you like. You’ll take my bed while you’re here,” Dorothy tried to protest but Booker stopped her. “I usually sleep at my desk anyway. You’ll be a lot more comfortable in my bed than the floor until I can figure something else out.” He supposed he could get another bed for Dorothy and keep it in Anna’s room, though he had no idea how he was going to afford one. He let Anna crawl around on the floor for a while, before lifting her suitcase effortlessly and setting it closer to the bed. 

Dorothy fought the urge to huff. Of course that was easy for him to lift, he didn’t have to carry that thing up a flight of stairs plus heft it from her mother’s house with a baby in her arm. Though his large frame suggested he was used to lifting heavy objects effortlessly, and not to mention his time in the army may have left Booker carrying objects far larger than just a suitcase packed with some essentials.

Like dying men, for instance, Dorothy shuddered at the thought.

“How long until you find something on Norman,” she asked trying to shake her previous thought from her mind. 

Booker shrugged before setting her case down next to the bed. “It could be days,” he suggested. “Could be weeks, could be a whole damn year before I hear anything.” 

“A year?!” Dorothy cried. “He could be dead by then!”

“He could be dead right now,” countered Booker hotly. “If I don’t know where he is, then I can’t do very much about it now can I?” Dorothy shook her head sadly. “Now the only thing I can do is go over anything that might lead me to him, and as soon as I find Norman I’ll get him home. But that’s it.” 

Dorothy said nothing, just stared at the floor where Anna played. She wondered briefly just how Booker would have felt if someone had taken Anna. If all this time of loving her and caring for her, she was suddenly gone. If every night he lay awake wondering if his child was alive or dead, or what he could have done to have prevented all of this. 

Booker didn’t say anything else about the subject. Instead he filtered through the few pieces of information he had on Higgins. Yesterday he had Philip Hanson retrieve one of his workers so Booker could ‘ask’ where Higgins was heading. He didn’t say much, not knowing exactly where he was headed but he did disclose that he was still in New York, it was close enough that Philip would be able to find him as soon as he was willing to strike a deal. Wherever Higgins was, Norman was close by. 

He said nothing about Norman’s condition. That worried Booker.

Booker had broken the man’s jaw before sending him back to work. A little assurance that this wasn’t going to go back to Thomas before Booker could catch him. Hanson was angry at him for doing so, but Booker didn’t care, the last time Booker had let a man live, he ended up with a bullet in his shoulder. He was not about to make that same mistake twice. 

“Do you really think Norman is dead,” Dorothy broke Booker’s thoughts. He glanced up and saw the sadness in her eyes. Booker almost pitied her, she’d never seen just what a desperate man was willing to do to achieve their ends. 

“I don’t think so,” he answered honestly. “If Thomas is a smart man, he’ll keep Norman alive so he can have the upper hand. As soon as Norman dies, it’s all over for him. I find him and he’s done for. I’m not being hired to kill Higgins, just to find this kid and bring him back alive.” 

“How do you know you’ll find him?”

“I don’t.”

“That’s not very comforting.”

“Do you want comfort or do you want the truth,” Booker gave Dorothy a stern look. “They almost never go together.” He poured himself a shot of whiskey and down it in a single gulp. Dorothy pretended not to notice, but stared at the ground in disapproval. If this was how he was going to spend the night, he would more than likely never find Norman.

“My father used to own the mill Mr. Hanson now owns,” Dorothy said softly. “If not for Norman, I would support Mr. Higgins cause. I just don’t want him to get hurt.” 

Booker let out a long breath. He didn’t want to have this conversation with this woman he barely knew. But he did nod his own agreement. It was no secret the real reason Booker wanted to put down Higgins, but he did have to admit he believed in what the man stood for. The thought brought a sudden memory, a city in the sky, a building on fire, the cheering of the oppressed, and a bullet wound. A fatal bullet wound. 

Booker glanced down, feeling a very hot pain in his side, as though he’d been shot again. On his papers were red splotches far too small to have been caused from bleeding from his side. Dorothy was at his side almost immediately. 

“Mr. DeWitt,” she handed him a handkerchief while trying to observe his face. “Your nose is bleeding.”


	8. Chapter 8

Although it was not his first nosebleed, Booker held the cloth to his nose with wide eyes. Dorothy fought the urge to tease him, the ex-soldier had to have seen more blood than this on a regular basis, but he was nervous about a little nose bleed. 

“Shit,” Booker muttered. What was happening? How was he having these memories? Wasn’t it all a dream? A horrible, horrible dream that was never going to happen because there was no way in hell Booker would have given Anna away. His eyes searched the floor for his daughter, relieved when she showed up from behind his chair and tried to climb up his leg. With his good arm, he reached down and picked up his daughter from the ground. 

She was looking at him quizzically, if a little observantly. She reached for the cloth on his nose but Booker backed up far enough that she couldn’t touch it. Anna noticed this and frowned, knowing that her father was trying to avoid her reach. She tried again, huffing loudly when Booker dodged her again. “DEH!” She complained loudly. For a finally attempt she reached for the cloth stopping when some stood in front of his door. The person whistled a tune a few times before stepping out of sight.

Booker remembered the tune vividly, it was used as a signal for Songbird to find Elizabeth. He glanced down at Anna who was giggling at the tune, turning so quickly she nearly fell off her father’s lap if his arm hadn’t been protectively around her. Her hands flapped merrily like a bird and she continued to giggle.

“Dorothy,” Booker whispered. His nose was still bleeding as he stood to hand her Anna. He let the cloth fall, unnoticed, to the ground as he moved closer to speak just above a whisper. “Go into Anna’s room. Don’t come out until I say so.”

“Mr. DeWitt who-?”

“I don’t know,” he said hotly. “Just stay out of sight until I come get you.” He nudged her forward until he was certain he wouldn’t slam the door on her. He reached into his desk, reaching for his pistol before slowly opening the door.

So far, the hallway was met with silence, the song was gone. The whistler with it, but Booker still felt uneasy. He took slow, quiet steps down the hall searching for anyone who had been passing that way. Certain that no one was there Booker turned around to his home when he noticed the door was wide open. 

“God dammit,” he charged forward into his room. He blinked a few times, trying to see if he was seeing the correct image but it looked an awful lot like Higgins was sitting on Booker’s bed. He looked as though he’d been waiting a long time for Booker to return. His hands folded neatly across his stomach and his scraggly bearded chin tucked to his chest. He looked at Booker patiently, not at all fazed that he was staring down the barrel of Booker’s gun. 

“Mr. DeWitt,” he said simply. Booker kept his weapon trained on Higgins, not budging for a second. “I am guessing you already know who I am. Otherwise I don’t think you’d be pointing a gun at me.”

“I tend to shoot things that come into my home uninvited,” countered Booker. He drew back the hammer, ready to fire it if necessary. 

“Yes I know,” nodded Higgins. “That’s why Noah and George are missing. Bringing your daughter into all of this was a low blow for me. So was having Dale and Charles try to take care of you before we ever met.” He finally stood up to Booker, they were about the same size, though Higgins could not quite reach Booker’s height. “I suppose I should apologize on each account.” 

“I suppose you should get the hell out if you know what’s good for you.”

“And then how would you find Norman?” 

“How do I know he’s still alive?”

“Oh he’s alive alright,” Higgins nodded. “Of that you have my word. I haven’t harmed the boy. But as long as I have him, I have assurances that Hanson can’t lay a hand on me.”

“What makes you think I’m doing this for Hanson,” Booker dared to step closer until he was nearly at the foot of his bed. “Maybe I’ll just kill you for breaking into my home twice.” If Higgins was intimidated he didn’t show it.

“Mr. DeWitt,” he said with a knowing smile. “I don’t think you’re properly equipped to kill me. Not if Wounded Knee was any indication of your sick methods. I have to ask, are Noah’s and George’s scalp lying around somewhere? I’m surprised you didn’t mount them on the wall.”

Booker’s eyes narrowed, he wanted to reply that he could start a brand new collection but he didn’t. He wanted to tell Higgins to go to hell, but he didn’t. Instead he stared ahead with what most would have judged as calmness if not for his narrowed eyes burning a hole in Higgins head. 

Thomas didn’t like that look, it was not the intended reaction he had hoped to accomplish. He wanted Booker to rage and deny what he’d done, especially since Thomas knew Dorothy and the baby were in the next room. But Booker was not denying his deeds, he wasn’t speaking at all. He was just looking at Higgins the way he did before he tore men apart piece by piece. 

“Mr. DeWitt,” continued Higgins. He wondered how hard he could push Booker before he broke. “How many families did you destroy back at Wounded Knee? Didn’t you set fire to one of their wigwams while they were still inside? Cowering away from you?”

Booker’s expression was as blank as it had been before. Higgins was getting angry now, he was trying to push Booker over the edge, to show him that he was no more innocent a man than Thomas was. “I think one of them women had a child no older than your little girl.” There was it the smallest breach into Booker’s defense, his face faltered but he quickly kept it in check. “Can you imagine Booker? If I dropped a torch right in front of – what’s her name – Anna’s door? All you can do is stand there listening to your poor little girl who can’t understand why it’s so hot, why it’s so hard to breathe, and why her precious father isn’t here to save-.” 

He was cut off by a bullet whizzing past his head. Booker had intended to miss, it was a warning shot. One with a very clear message; Thomas wouldn’t have a chance to go anywhere near her. “I’m only going to give you one warning and that’s because I need that boy alive,” growled Booker. His expression was still stony but Thomas couldn’t miss that burning hatred in his eyes. “But if you ever threaten my daughter again, it’ll be the very last thing you ever do. That kid can rot for all I care.”

Thomas was surprised by Booker’s sudden reaction. There was no indication that he was really going to fire, no demands to stop but only just a sudden bullet and a warning to go along with it. With Booker’s first and final warning, Thomas stood up face to face with the ex-Pinkerton. “Very well,” Thomas nodded. “Hanson will find his son soon, when he’s willing to strike a deal with the Unions. Until he does I’ll be holding the boy with me. If I don’t see or hear from Phillip in that time I will send him a reminder of what he’s missing and what the stakes are. Until then my friend,” Thomas held out a hand for Booker to shake. But Booker didn’t take it, it was a risk, an unnecessary one. Thomas took the hint and nodded before heading to the door. “She is beautiful Booker. Your daughter, I mean. She is beautiful.”

Booker nodded but still followed Thomas to the door before slamming it shut behind him. He sighed, he desperately needed a drink.


	9. Chapter 9

“You can come out now,” Booker called to the woman on the other side of the door. “He’s gone.” 

Dorothy hesitated but decided against keeping her employer waiting. She opened the door to Anna’s room revealing a trembling nanny and child. Booker didn’t miss the tear streaks on both sets of cheeks, nor did he miss the surprise on Dorothy’s face when there was no body. “I tried to keep Anna as quiet as possible.”

“I didn’t even hear her,” he said as he scooped his daughter out of Dorothy’s arms and into his own. Anna clutched to him, relieved like Dorothy that he was alright, though a bit shaken. ‘Can you imagine Booker? If I dropped a torch right in front of – what’s her name – Anna’s door? All you can do is stand there listening to your poor little girl who can’t understand why it’s so hot, why it’s so hard to breathe, and why her precious father isn’t here to save-.’ The words weighed heavy on him. Booker would have had to have been full of holes and already dead in order for Anna to be in any danger from a fire. But Booker never thought about the children in those small homes.

They were afraid of him, they were hiding, hoping soldiers would simply pass over them with so much as a second thought. The old, the sick, the women, the children – it did matter who was in that wigwam they were all killed by Booker’s hand. 

“Was it true what he said,” asked Dorothy after a long pause. Booker glanced up at her, he really didn’t want to talk about it with her. “About the family inside?”

“Yes,” it came out as little more than a whisper. Mostly because Booker was still ashamed of his self after all the years since Wounded Knee. The other reason, though she was still small, was that he didn’t Anna to know about it. He didn’t want his daughter growing up thinking he was a monster and live the rest of her life in fear of him. “It was a long time ago. Let’s leave it there.” That was the end of that conversation. He stood back up, forgetting that he had offered his bed to Dorothy. He took Anna to her room, planting a kiss on her tiny cheeks before laying her in her crib. 

When Booker carefully closed the door behind him, he strode to his cabinet and reached for the nearest bottle of whiskey, he was about to open the bottle when a hand placed over his own. He glanced back at Dorothy, a stern but not unkind look on her face. “This isn’t going to make it go away.”

“No,” he admitted. “But it’s going to make it sting a hell of a lot less.” With that, he opened the bottle and took three long gulps. ‘I killed a baby about Anna’s age.’ He tried not to imagine the sound of the baby’s cries as it asphyxiated on the smoke, or perhaps the wailing as it tried to escape the heat. Was it crawling around like Anna does? Or was its mother clutching her little one to her breast as they awaited the inevitable? He lifted the bottle with renewed enthusiasm. Dorothy tried to stop him, but he easily side-stepped her. 

“Booker,” she chided but he ignored her. “Booker what are you going to do in that state if Anna needs you?”

“That’s what you’re here for,” he answered before lifting the bottle once more to his lips. Much to Dorothy’s surprise the bottle was already half gone. How could any man drink that much so quickly and still be conscious. “If you don’t like how I live in my house then you can go somewhere else.” Dorothy could hear the edges of drunkenness starting to impair his speech.

She suddenly became very angry with him. “If I did who would look over your daughter? Certainly not you! You’re too busy pitying yourself to take care of her.” That struck a nerve with him. He suddenly stopped and shot his gaze over to her. She was a little shocked with what she had said, and how quickly Booker caught what she said. “I… I-I…” she was suddenly very afraid he was going to strike her. She didn’t put it past him, but she didn’t want to be on the receiving end. 

Slowly, but certainly, Dorothy began to back away from him. But Booker followed with his gaze, his face was stony again, but his eyes gave away what he was thinking, he was livid with what she had said. That looked frightened Dorothy the most, it was the look just after he killed someone, and possibly just before. “Booker I-I didn’t m-mean it,” she wanted to hide from him, though she doubted there would be anywhere for her to go. She had no doubt he could have easily outrun her. But he didn’t move from his spot, it was a small relief to see that his pistol was on the desk and not in his hand. 

In one quick jerking movement he slammed the bottle on the floor, shattering the bottle to pieces. He quickly walked across the room, to his desk. Dorothy bit her lip, this was it. He was going to kill her. “Go to bed Dorothy,” he tossed the pistol in his drawer and laid his head down. Dorothy sat wide-eyed. He didn’t destroy her. He didn’t even lay a hand on her. He just broke the bottle in anger, but Dorothy couldn’t help but wonder if she had been anyone else would he have thrown the bottle at her. She laid on the lumpy mattress, not daring to think about the discomfort and forced her eyes shut. She wondered if this was what Sam was talking about.

Booker slumped over his desk trying to force his self to sleep as well. Neither were very well rested the next morning. 

Dorothy was surprised with how quickly and quietly Booker left the next morning. He told her he’d be gone most of the time, seeing as he had to find Norman and quick. Dorothy decided that it was a good time to try to tidy up his flat. Anna protested from her crib, but Dorothy didn’t like the idea of the baby crawling around on the floor with broken glass from the previous night in Booker’s fit of rage. 

She picked up the shards as quick as she could, stopping and hissing when one pricked her finger. “Ow,” she threw herself back and sucked on her finger for a second. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, and nearly leapt across the room when she reopened them and found Booker looking down at her. “Mr. DeWitt!” She cried with her hand over her breast.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” she breathed heavily. “You just scared me nearly to death. Did you forget something Mr. DeWitt?”

“It’s still Booker,” he corrected her. “And no I was just coming home to check on Anna. I have an hour before I see Hanson today.” 

Dorothy nodded and continued her work. “I think she’d be glad to see you, she’s not happy that I kept her in her crib this long.” Booker didn’t look pleased by that at all, he knelt down to observe her injured finger. “It’s just a scratch, it’ll heal.” 

“I’ll get the glass just go get Anna,” he nodded towards the door. “She’ll scream to beat the band until someone does.” Anna hadn’t started her screaming fits, but he could be assured it would come soon. Dorothy started to protest again but Booker raised an eyebrow. “Ms. Small my fingers are far thicker than yours, this little bit of glass won’t tear me to shreds now go get Anna.” Dorothy still did not budge. “Dorothy, please go get Anna. That’s your job isn’t it?” He wanted to finish this sentence with, ‘since I obviously can’t do it’, but stopped from continuing. He wasn’t in the mood to continue the conversation from the night before. 

Dorothy folded her arms and grunted, a clear sign she did not want to get Anna, but seeing as the glass would not have been broken if not for Booker’s temper she did as she was told. When she emerged from the room, with one wiggly baby, he was nearly finished. Anna watched her father in fascination as he worked quickly, sharp pieces of glass that would have sliced Dorothy’s fingers poked and prodded his own but he did not seem to mind. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do,” offered Dorothy. Anna was still trying to break out of her arms and reach Booker. “She is getting a little impatient.” Booker shook his head and continued until he was sure there was nothing left on the floor for his daughter to attempt to put in her mouth. He threw the bits of broken glass away and sat back in his chair. Dorothy was a little surprised he didn’t take Anna immediately seeing as he was there to check on her. “Is something wrong Booker?”

His gaze shot over to her, a lot like the night before. It was stony, but instead of the burning hatred in his eyes, she would have sworn she had seen the look of worry in them. She crossed the mostly empty room until Dorothy and Anna were in arms reach. “Hanson was considering a deal with Higgins.” 

“Isn’t this a good thing?”

“No,” he said bitterly. “It’s really not. If he takes the deal then my services are useless. I don’t get paid for being useless.” Dorothy nodded in understanding, he was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to provide for his daughter. 

“Is that why you’re meeting with him?

Booker nodded. “I have to convince him not to. I have to somehow make him believe that I can do something.” He propped his elbows on the desk in front of him and let his head rest in his hands. “He’s not too pleased that I didn’t just put Higgins down last night. Hanson thinks I’m incompetent.”

“He’s a fool,” exclaimed Dorothy. “How would you ever find Norman?”

Booker smirked at that. “I tried saying the same thing. He told me I was just being a coward and making excuses. Maybe he’s right.”

Dorothy scoffed, she’d seen this method before. It was how Philip got results he’d scare his workers into doing just what he wanted them too. He had tried that same method with Dorothy but she had quickly put her foot down when she noticed he was bluffing.

“No Booker I doubt he’s right,” said Dorothy after a short pause. “He’s trying to make you uncomfortable so he’ll get his results faster.” Booker glanced up at her. Her hands were on her hips and her nose was turned upwards as though she was ready to scold him. “He’s not going to take a deal from Mr. Higgins, he’d burn down the steel mill first. He does this to all his employees. This is why they’re trying to rise against him. He always thinks he has an ace up his sleeve.” 

“I don’t blame them,” mumbled Booker. “Even still, I do need to work faster. The sooner I’m done with this deal, the sooner I can pay my debts.”

Dorothy said nothing. She knew about Booker’s debts – or as much as Sam would tell her about his debts – and she could also tell that he owed money to less than reputable men by the look of worry. She wondered how he had managed to feed Anna for so long if he was that short on money. 

“Well I’m not going to solve anything in here,” Booker stood from his desk. “I’ll be late tonight. If you have even the slightest imagination that someone is trying to come in here and it’s not me, I want you to get to your mother’s again as fast as you can.”

“Should I leave a note?”

“No,” he said firmly. “I don’t want to know where she lives, and I don’t want anyone else to know it either. Just leave and come back tomorrow. If I’m not there, stay with your mother.”

“You say this with the assumption that my mother is going to be okay with this,” Dorothy’s hands went back on her hips. She tapped her foot impatiently but not without the look of amusement.

Booker sighed, “Can she be bribed?”

“Can you buy the steel mill from under Mr. Hanson?” Booker rubbed the bridge of his nose. He very much wished he could afford the mill just so he would have never started this job in the first place. Dorothy patted him on the arm sympathetically. “I’ll see what I can do with her. She told me the first time that she was doubtful she was ever going to have grandchildren.”

Booker looked up past his finger as Dorothy questioningly. Dorothy tilted her head at his gaze, reviewing what she’d said before yelping in surprise. “I mean,” She corrected, “she does not expect either of her daughters to have children. She was quite pleased to have a little one crawling around that I was taking care of. It is the closest thing right now.” 

“You never brought Norman around?”

“He’s the son of the man she abhors,” answered Dorothy. “I didn’t want Norman being brought around her spite. But Anna, she melted my mother’s heart almost instantly. I’m almost sure she’d have no problem with her.”

“Good,” said Booker. “I need to meet up with Hanson.” He handed her a small wad of cash. “I don’t have much here; pick something up for you and Anna if you need it.” He kissed Anna before turning to leave. He stopped at the door for a minute. “By the way, about yesterday,” He took a deep breath like he didn’t want to say it but he knew he had to. “I’m sorry.” He opened the door and closed it.

Dorothy and Anna stood there in the silence for a long time. She considered his apology for a long time, it didn’t sound forced and so she guessed he was being sincere with her. She felt a little more comfortable in his home for that reason. He was trying to be cordial with her, even if he didn’t have to be. She was being paid to be here, and she was stuck whether she liked it or not. But she supposed it could have been worse. She could have been unemployed and starving on the streets. 

Dorothy readied Anna to leave for the market. The whole time they walked, she tried to figure out Booker. “I don’t think I’ll ever figure that man out.” She had meant to say it to herself. But, if Dorothy didn’t know any better, she could have sworn Anna was nodding and sympathizing. Dorothy laughed, maybe he just had that effect on women.


	10. Chapter 10

Dorothy and Anna had just barely made it to the market when the news spread around about the ‘city in the sky’. Though Dorothy had only tuned in and out of the conversation, many people spoke excitedly as they discussed what the wonders of Columbia could possibly behold. From what she could gather, the city belonged to a Mr. Fink along with his brother, with construction overseen by eccentric twins Robert and Rosalind Lutece. A true American dream, without the burden of colored men owning land or getting jobs belonging to the good God-Fearing white man. 

It sounded fascinating, but nothing close to what was on Dorothy’s mind. She wondered about Booker, often complaining about him to his daughter who was on the verge of a nap in her stroller. She stopped at the vendors, picking up a few essentials for supper before she could have sworn she saw someone watching. No longer chancing short cuts behind alleys, she tried to disappear into the crowd by blending with shoppers and discussing the mysterious Columbia. She kept Anna close, a few times she considered leaving the stroller and running to her mother’s house. 

Dorothy saw her brother-in-law down the street, thinking she was safe – though she was not happy to see him – she approached Sam as quickly as possible. She glanced behind her shoulder one more time before greeting him with false cheerfulness. “Sam, it’s so good to see you,” she hugged him. “Are you out alone today? Is Maria with you? What brings you to the market today?”

He laughed and tried to answer all her questions. Yes he was alone, Maria was at her mother’s house with some news. He would not tell her what he was in the market for though, he just told her she’d have to ask her sister. “I see you are still watching over Anna,” he frowned as he said that. Anna sat up and gave him her most intimidating pouty face, still bitter about the conversation from a few nights ago. He paused for a moment. “Have you considered what we talked about?”

“What we talked about,” repeated Dorothy. She didn’t want to talk about this, if she had her way, ever again. In fact, Dorothy would have preferred to pretend that the conversation never happened in the first place. It was a dangerous game Sam wanted to play, taking Booker’s child. Even more dangerous for herself as Anna was in Dorothy’s care.  
‘I have to ask, are Noah and George’s scalp lying around somewhere? I’m surprised you didn’t mount them on the wall.’ The images of scalped men – or what she assumed scalped men to look like – filled her mind and she shuddered. 

Sam sighed, seeing the fearful look on Dorothy’s face. “Dorothy I know how hard this must be for you to even consider the job, but you must see it’s for the child’s own good.”

Anna protested again, this time throwing her wooden rattle and missing. Sam was quickly getting tired of the baby’s antics but made no mention of it. Instead he tried to be the bigger man, and handed the toy back to her. “Let’s not talk about this out here,” he insisted. “Come let’s go somewhere a little more private and discuss this.” 

“I can’t,” Dorothy lied quickly. Her grip on the stroller tightened. “I have to prepare dinner tonight and Anna probably needs a change soon as well as a nap. And Booker could be home at any moment. He may become suspicious. Maybe we should all discuss this later, with my sister as well.” 

Sam seemed displeased with this but did not push her, knowing it would only make him look bad. “Very well I will talk to Maria about this. Keep it in mind Dorothy, keep Anna’s safety in mind.” 

He left the way he came, leaving Dorothy biting the inside of her lip. The feeling of being watched did not leave her until she arrived back at Booker’s room. 

Booker was beginning to understand what Dorothy had meant when she told him that Philip Hanson was just a blow hard. He raised his voice a lot, and threatened Booker even more. But he never carried any of it through, instead he demanded to know what Booker’s next course of action would be. 

“I need to find where he is hiding the boy,” answered Booker. “Once I find Thomas, I can find Norman. Once Norman is safe, I’ll put Higgins down.”

“The boy?” Snarled Hanson. “You think I am still worried about my son? He’s dead, it would be easier to just accept that Mr. DeWitt. That half of your money is forfeit! I am talking about the man ruining my business! Pretty soon there will be riots, and I’ll have to call in those damn Pinks again. I don’t care if he tells you he has the cure for smallpox! I want him dead!”

Booker was stunned, he didn’t care that his own son could possibly be alive somewhere, he just wanted to make more money? He tried to imagine if there was anything he would have put above Anna, and not a thing came to mind (Comstock being a dream didn’t count). He would have died for his daughter, and this man he was working for was so concerned about his business.

“Now I expect you to find Higgins once again and dispose of him Mr. DeWitt, I have things to do today. And if he comes into your home again, do yourself a favor and don’t hesitate to kill him,” he escorted Booker to the door. “I would hate to see something happen to that precious baby of yours.” 

Booker didn’t like how he emphasized those words. He didn’t have the time to respond as the door was slammed in his face. “Bastard,” he muttered under his breath.

“Now you see why his workers turned to me,” said a voice behind him. Booker spun around quickly to see Higgins right behind him. He was lighting a cigarette and approaching Booker. “That man doesn’t value a thing but his own money. Don’t bother shooting me here, he’ll just find a way to save more money by weaseling out of your payment.” Booker stopped reaching for the pistol cradled in the holster. 

“What do you want,” Booker kept a comfortable distance between them. Something was amiss and he intended to find out. 

“Well now,” Higgins raised his hands defensively. “Is this the thanks I’m about to get for helping you?” Booker paused, unsure of how Higgins could possibly help him. It seemed to Booker that Higgins was making everything worse. He said nothing but nodded for Higgins to go on. “You love your daughter don’t you?”

Booker reached once more for his pistol, not liking where this story was going at all. Thomas shook his head, “I don’t intend on harming your baby, if I did I would have at the market today.” He glanced over his shoulder nervously. “We should leave here, if Hanson has the first idea I’m here, we are both in for a world of trouble. Will you hear what I have to say? If I show the slightest chance of deception, then I urge you to shoot me.” 

Booker didn’t like the sound of that but he knew Higgins was correct. He kept his pistol close but gestured for Thomas to lead on. As they walked, Higgins began to fill Booker in on just what he knew. “Don’t trust Hanson for a second, he knows precisely where his son is, the fact that he paid you to hunt me down was simply so he could get me out of the way for his business. With Columbia being manufactured-“

“Columbia?” Booker’s pulse began to race, he really hated the sound of that. 

“Yes there is a city in the sky apparently,” laughed Thomas. “I think the whole thing sounds insane, but the Lutece twins are certain it can be done. Someone was suggesting that they’ve ‘done it before’ and could do it again.” 

Booker’s stomach sank, could it be possible that his nightmare was coming true? Was Comstock alive and out there somewhere? Was Anna in danger? “Apparently those Fink brothers are willing to give the twins whatever it takes to make this a reality,” continued Higgins. “But it leaves the market booming in steel and Hanson has a big deal at stake.” Higgins growled under his breath. “They’re almost worse than Hanson.” 

“What about Comstock?” Booker had to ask. Higgins raised an eyebrow questioningly but shrugged.

“Never heard of him,” he answered. “This isn’t the point Mr. DeWitt. The point is Hanson’s kid Norman. Philip knows exactly where he is being kept.” 

“Then why hasn’t he come after you for his son?”

“Because he wants to make it look like I killed his boy before he does it himself,” growled Thomas. Booker’s eye almost shot up under his hairline. Hanson was going to kill his own son? “He thinks it will finally give him the probable cause needed to kill me as long as I’ve decided not to outright attack him. They’ll be at the bridge in a week, they’re going to throw him over and let the boy drown.” Thomas sighed sadly. “Booker, I know that you don’t particularly care for me, and I understand why you don’t. But this is a child, with no more defenses than if it were your little girl. I need you to help me, if not for me, then for the boy.” 

“I still don’t understand, what about Dorothy? She saw you during the night Norman was taken.”

“I have someone on the inside who tells me Hanson’s next move. They were going to kill Dorothy as well. I stepped in when I saw what they had intended for her, once they scattered I did as well, without Norman. She didn’t hesitate to find her brother-in-law, and then you. But I fear her brother-in-law may have different intentions than either you are aware of. Tell me, did you know he was so worried about your daughter’s benefit?”

Booker thought back to the previous day, just after they had left the Pinkerton office as Booker was fired. Sam was asking an uncomfortable amount of questions about Anna’s benefit, about the possibility of giving Anna to another family. It did raise the question of why but Anna had just come home from three days of missing her. He never thought about it again. 

“He did the last time I spoke to him,” Booker answered honestly. “What does Moorley have to do with any of this?”

“My source has told me more than once that Mr. Moorley has been chumming around with Philip for a while now,” Higgins rubbed the scruffy chin for a minute. “I heard him mention Anna a few times. At first my source and I had thought it was a mutual interest Moorley and you had on a woman. But something he said to Ms. Small today disturbed me. I think he intends to kidnap your daughter!”

Booker froze in his tracks. He sharply turned his gaze at Thomas. “Tell me what you know!” He growled. Thomas nodded and began telling the story as he knew it.


	11. Chapter 11

Dorothy was not lying when she said she had to prepare dinner. Nothing special; beef stew with carrots and potatoes as well as a loaf of bread. She was nearly done wiping all the dust off the walls and furniture while Anna soothed her sore gums with a rag. They were both startled when the door was thrown open to reveal a very angry looking Booker. He stalked across the room and grabbed Dorothy painfully by the arm.

“Booker! What-?”

“Did you see Moorley in the market today?” He demanded angrily. Dorothy felt her heart skip a beat. How did he know? She began shaking in his grasp, knowing he would kill her. 

“I- I did,” she admitted in a small voice. Booker’s grip tightened, causing Dorothy to whine in pain. “I just saw him in the crowd and I thought someone was watching us so I went to a familiar face. I didn’t want a repeat with Norman, and with Higgins knowing you and your daughter I thought it would be a risk to try to make it back here alone.”

“What does he want with Anna,” he asked. The leveled voice had long been lost, he was all but growling at her.

Dorothy was quiet for a long time. Knowing if she spoke, it would get Sam, Maria, or herself killed. It wasn’t until Booker shook her violently by the arm that she answered. “He… He thought…”

“What did he think,” Booker pressed. “Dammit Dorothy you’d better tell me.” 

“He said you were an unfit father and that she would be safer with him,” she flinched. “I never intended to hand her over Mr. DeWitt I swear. Now please let me go. Y-you’re hurting me.” He let her go as if she were too hot and stepped away rubbing his temples and swearing under his breath. Dorothy was left standing trying to remain on her feet, trembling. 

Anna had seen the commotion and crawled to her father. Her brows pulled downward, clearly displeased by her father’s temper, she reached for his pant leg and tugged. Booker glanced down at the small girl just under his feet who was looking up at him as if he had a displeasing smell. Booker kept glancing between the two before he picked up his daughter. She still didn’t look at all happy with him. He didn’t expect that, but he had figured it was more the pain in her gums that had made her look so annoyed.

Booker was wrong.

“Deh,” she shook her tiny fist at him. Booker raised an eyebrow at her. What did he do to deserve this? “Deh de!” Her attention turned to the woman breathing heavily and trembling like a leaf on the floor. Dorothy’s arms wrapped around her shoulders, afraid of whatever Booker had planned for her. Anna pointed at her, her hard gaze softened a little. “Beh beh. Deh!”

If Booker didn’t know any better, he would have guessed that Anna was trying to stick up for Dorothy. The once furrowed brow had released, giving way to a more compassionate look in her eyes. Booker had seen that face before; when he’d told Elizabeth about Wounded Knee, when she had seen the hungry child hiding under the stairs, and just before she had held him under in the river. 

He was taken aback by his daughter’s loyalty to a woman, Booker had believed, was going to help that bastard Moorley take her away from him. But then, even Higgins did not believe that she was going to help him, the way she evaded Sam so quickly and just bolted straight home. Booker had ignored that detail, too busy seething with rage that someone else was trying to take Anna. 

Dorothy tried to collect herself, her closed-mouthed sobs only made apparent by the loud sniffles. If the truth was told, Booker didn’t like the way he had acted, letting his anger dictate the rest of him, instead of listening to reason and thinking things through. Especially to a woman who could barely defend herself against him. Dorothy tried to avoid eye-contact with him, but finally found the strength to stand and wipe the stray tears away. The more he watched her, the guiltier he felt for his actions.

“Deh,” Anna called his attention back. “Deh deh.” She wriggled to get out of his arms, a first for her, and as he set her down she quickly crawled to Dorothy. Dorothy didn’t move immediately to pick her up, too frightened that Booker would finally strike her for going anywhere near his daughter after what he had just heard. But Anna kept reaching for her, looking up sadly at the woman, until her bottom lip pouted out. Her little face soon crumbled until she too was crying.

Booker felt his heart sink to his feet. He hated to see women cry, especially his own daughter. Now she and Dorothy were whimpering in the corner because one was afraid of Booker, and the other was mad at him. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what to say. Did he tell Dorothy to leave? Should he apologize to her? Was he right in his actions? He muttered another curse under his breath, things were getting worse and worse all the time. 

Dorothy had finally satisfied Anna’s request to be held, but she crossed the room until she was just in front of Booker. Her eyes still didn’t meet his, but she began to hand over Anna, who was not at all happy about it. “I’ll take my things and leave immediately, Booker,” she said sadly. “I am sorry.” Booker took Anna, who whimpered on her father’s shoulder. 

“Dorothy wait,” Booker sighed. They were certainly one hell of a team on doing a number on him. He glanced between Anna and Dorothy one more time. He couldn’t believe he was putting his trust in a baby no more than six months old. But if Anna approved the woman, she must have been doing something right. Anna was perceptive like that, he reasoned as she perked up to listen to what her father had to say. But Booker couldn’t back down, he still had to make it known that if she ever even thought about taking his daughter away, she would have to go much further than a city in the sky to stop him. “If you had any intention of kidnapping my daughter, you would have by now. I left you two alone all day, and here you two are. I have a bad feeling I’m going to regret this but I want you to stay. But if you even think about giving her away, you’d better hope I’m dead, or you are before I get to you. I’ll have no problems burning down all of New York for my daughter.”

Dorothy didn’t doubt the words for a minute. She still wanted to leave, but she knew it would only draw more suspicion if she did. With a loud sniffle she nodded and sat back on the bed staring at the floor. Anna went back to her rag and began chewing once more, not quite happy with the scene, but pleased that things were taking a turn in the right direction. 

Booker let out a long breath and went to his desk, he had to make a very important decision and make it soon. “Dorothy I need your help with something,” he quietly admitted. Dorothy glanced up in surprise and joined him at the desk. “I think I know where Norman is being held.”

“That’s wonderful news Booker,” she tried to insert some false cheeriness into her tone though Booker could see right through it. “How soon can you get him home safely?”

“How well do you know the Hanson household?”

“Probably better than anyone else,” Dorothy answered honestly. “But what does that have to do with wherever Norman is?”

“According to Higgins,” explained Booker. “Norman is being kept at the Hanson estate. He thinks Philip is going to kill Norman and try to pin this on him so he has an excuse to kill Higgins without me getting involved, therefore not paid.”

“That… No… He- I,” Dorothy stammered wide-eyed. “He wouldn’t do that to his own son.”

“He would if you saw the profits he had coming to him for his steel,” Booker countered. “With Higgins in the way, the Fink brothers think he’ll be too much trouble to work with and they’ll get their steel elsewhere. Men like Hanson only care about one thing, and it’s not his son.” 

Dorothy stood aghast from the information Booker had given her about her former employer. He would kill a small boy for profit? “Where did you learn about this?”

“Higgins,” he answered honestly. Dorothy couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Thomas Higgins told Booker DeWitt that he didn’t have Hanson’s son and Booker just believed him. “I need to know if there’s a way into Hanson’s house unseen. If what Higgins says is true, then I will find Norman and Hanson will have to answer for what he’s done. If not, then I take down Higgins.” 

“And if it’s a set up?”

“Then I trust you’ll do as I’ve told you and make sure Anna is taken care of.” 

“That is a big risk to take,” Dorothy folded her arms. “What if it’s a diversion so that Higgins can actually kill Norman?”

“Higgins is going to be with me,” answered Booker. Dorothy didn’t like the sound of that one bit, it all sounded like a trap. Booker was risking far more than his own life. “He says he wants to help the boy, if he’s correct and Norman is, in fact, inside the house then at least the kid has a chance to get out alive. If not, I’ll kill him there on the spot.” 

Dorothy shook her head, she hated the sound of all of this. She was never a big admirer of Philip but he was not the type to kill his own son. Especially after his wife died of pneumonia leaving him with a two year old boy, Philip had spent many nights trying to make his son understand his mother would not be coming home. “When will you enter Hanson’s home?”

“Tonight, if I can get an answer from you.” 

“There’s a door on the left side of the house, facing the street, it leads to the kitchen,” she explained. “Mr. Hanson’s room is on the second floor all the way to the right side of the building. He shouldn’t hear you coming in from there. But take care, he is a light sleeper. If he hears you, I doubt he’ll have any trouble ending your life a lot sooner than his own son’s.”

Booker nodded. “Thank you.” He lightly rested his hand on her shoulder. Dorothy tensed up noticeably, but Booker didn’t comment on it. He could understand why she didn’t want him touching her since he nearly ripper her arm out of the socket. His hand fell to his side and he went about trying to find some sort of busy work until later that evening. 

He had settled on reading, or pretending to pay attention to what he was reading when he noticed the books were not as dusty as they had been. Upon inspection, he noticed that nothing was as dusty as it was when he had left in the morning. He glanced back at Dorothy, who was finishing their dinner, and glanced back at his shelves. “Huh,” he noted before sitting in his chair and opening the book. He wondered what else she had done since he was gone, but didn’t bother to ask. It didn’t matter one way or another, he was just curious. 

Dorothy announced that their dinner was ready. Booker stomach rumbled loudly at the good news before he was even at the table. 

Dorothy watched in surprise at the gusto with which Booker ate. She picked at her plate while Booker scoffed down his meal. Neither said much to each other, except for the thanks Booker had given Dorothy. When he finished, Booker sat back with a comfortable sigh. It was probably the best thing he’d eaten since his wife died, though it did bring back a pang of nostalgia of the meals he’d had with his wife. How she would laugh that it was such a surprise that Booker kept such a physique with the way he’d eat. 

He caught Dorothy watching him amusedly. “What?”

“I was just wondering where you put all that food in such a short amount of time,” she answered. Booker snorted but didn’t say anything else. They sat comfortably for a few minutes before Dorothy collected both plates for cleaning. Anna was the next to be fed, though she put up a fight over it as she didn’t want to be bothered with the way her gums were feeling. Dorothy commented on how Anna was nearly as stubborn as her father. Booker chuckled from his chair and agreed. 

“When Sam came to me,” she started with a hesitant breath. Booker shot her a dark look but said nothing. Dorothy didn’t know whether to continue with her story or not. But figuring he’d appreciate it more to know the truth she went on. “To talk about me just handing over Anna, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so angry before.” 

“How long did you know about this,” Booker asked. 

“About two days,” she answered honestly. “Both times he spoke to me about it, I told him I would not be involved in this and that if he continued to press the subject I would take it to you. Anna let him have it though. She began yelling at him, she never took her eyes off him, like she knew he was up to no good. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a child stare down a man so intensely.”

Though he’d never admit it out loud, Booker was happy to hear those words. He could just imagine Anna with her pouty face; lips pressed tight, eyebrows drawn together, eyes narrowed straight ahead. It made him think of when he’d made Elizabeth angry and it ended with a wrench to the face.

“Higgins tends to think Moorley and Hanson are somehow working together,” Booker said thoughtfully. “Did he mention anything about Columbia?”

“No,” she recalled. “But then I didn’t give him much time. Anna was about to start assaulting him, she’d begun throwing her toys at him.” He chuckled at the image, she was certainly his daughter, through and through

“Good,” nodded Booker, though Dorothy wasn’t sure whether he was talking about his little girl throwing toys at Sam, or that Sam didn’t mention Columbia. “I want you to go to your mother’s house tonight. If Hanson does shoot on sight, I want you somewhere Moorley can’t corner you without witnesses. Whatever you do - whatever happens to me - do not let him have Anna.”

“But if you’re-?”

“Just do this one thing for me.” 

“Booker,” she was confused, what had Moorley done?

“Before he throws his stones at me,” Booker answered the unasked question. “Maybe you should ask Sam what he’s done.” Booker looked outside and sighed. “The sun’s setting, I should go.” The troubled look on Dorothy’s face stopped him before he could. “Thank you for your help Dorothy. I appreciate what you’ve done.”

He kissed Anna on the cheek before disappearing from the room again.


	12. Chapter 12

Booker didn’t have to wait long for Higgins to join him. They snuck around to the door Dorothy had informed them about. The one that would lead them inside undetected, that is until they made a noise. Booker moved silently across the house, trying to navigate in the dark without knocking anything over that would suddenly send Booker to prison or an early grave. 

Higgins, on the other hand, was maneuvering through the building with ease. It was obvious that he’d been around the house in the dark more than a few times. Booker could only wonder why or how he was never found before. “Norman is being held in the cellar. The entrance outside is locked, but there is another way inside,” whispered Higgins. Booker nodded and gestured for Thomas to lead the way. He was stopped suddenly at a door, after silently jiggling the handle, Higgins swore. “Dammit it’s locked. There has to be a key around here somewhere.” 

“No doubt with Hanson,” thought Booker aloud. If only Elizabeth were around, she could have picked the lock for them. There was no way they would have been able to retrieve the key from Hanson without being caught, so instead they searched for another way down. 

“What about the lock outside,” asked Booker. “Is there a way to break the hinges or the lock?” Higgins shook his head sadly. They had to figure something out, and figure it out quick.

“Mr. Higgins,” squeaked a small voice behind them. They spun around, to find a young girl of about thirteen, with wild orange hair and bright blue eyes. She approached the two with a small wad of cloth in her hands. “Frederick wanted me to make sure you got this.” She tossed it to the men and scurried out of site. Booker glanced at Higgins puzzled by what had just happened. 

“Sally there,” Higgins nudged his head forward in the direction the girl was standing as he dug through the bundle. “She’s just one of the house help. Frederick is my associate, the one who has been keeping me informed about the goings-on in the house.” With a sigh, he dropped the wad of cloth with no key inside. “Nothing, she must have dropped it.” 

“Don’t be so sure,” a voice startled them both. It was a familiar nasally tone, Booker cursed out loud when he realized it was Hanson. In his hands rested a pistol, nothing special but enough to waste the two men in front of him. “Well Mr. Higgins, it would seem that you are more brazen than I thought, barging in here to turn my own staff against me. And you Mr. DeWitt, I had expected better from you, but instead here you sneaking into my home with my enemy. But let me assure you both, you’re not the only one with contacts around this house. I have eyes and ears everywhere.” 

Sally appeared from behind Hanson, looking ashamed and afraid of the two men glowering at her. She folded her hands in front of her, staring at the floor like she wished it would swallow her whole. “Sally,” Thomas’s voice sounded soothing as he spoke directly to the girl. “This is the man who didn’t bat an eye when your father was crushed to death in the mill. He was the reason you started working for him so you and your mother didn’t starve to death, and even then, can you really say he feeds you well. You’re all skin and bone girl.” Sally didn’t say anything, but the shift in her face suggested that she knew he was right. 

“Where’s Norman,” Booker turned the tables back to Hanson. “A man with eyes and ears everywhere like you said, you must know where your son is.” Philip narrowed his gaze at Booker, he didn’t like the accusation but when he stepped up to attack, Booker took his opening. He dove forward into Hanson’s midsection, who grunted in surprise by the younger man’s sudden action. He wrestled the pistol out of Hanson’s grip before turning the gun on its master. “Where is Norman?”

“You think you’re going to save him,” laughed Philip. “The boy’s been dead since yesterday, go to the river, you may just find his body.” Booker and Thomas shared a look of disgust. “You think I was guessing when I said my son was dead? I knew, I was the one who ordered the bullet be put in his head. And I know you’re hurting to do the same thing to me. So do it, DeWitt. If your reputation is as red as Moorley made it sound, kill me.”

“What the hell do you know about Moorley?” Booker wanted to hear it, hear Hanson tell Booker about Moorley’s conspiracy to take Anna, to give Booker a reason to kill him. 

“That man was going to supply me with another heir to my fortune,” chuckled Hanson. “Your daughter. That sweet Anna, he swore he’d make your death look like an accident and give her to me, but I think he began to fall in love with the same girl you did. Again. I knew he was planning on taking that pretty wife of his to Columbia, along with your daughter.” He added blithely, “he was probably going to take that worthless Dorothy with him too.” 

“Why so you could kill her too when you needed to make a deal,” questioned Thomas. “Just drop her body in the river next, will you shoot her or just leave her to drown?” He was quivering with anger, wanting to end Hanson’s life in the slowest way possible. He glanced over at Booker, seeing the same thing many had seen at Wounded Knee, and Thomas smirked. He had said it purposely so Booker would feel the familiar white hot rage. He knew Booker could see the image of his daughter, floating faced down in the river, because of Booker’s failure.

“I don’t pretend to be a fortune teller,” Hanson answered nonchalantly. “It may be possible, though it doesn’t appear to be so now. With Moorley failing to take the girl for me, he’ll probably try to take the girl for himself and keep her. I can’t pretend I know whether or not he’ll drop her from the sky.”

Booker cocked the hammer back on the pistol. His expression faltered, eyes narrowing dangerously at Hanson, his jaw locked tightly as his teeth clenched. His left hand had curled into a fist, while his right hand was dangerously still. In his mind haunted the image of a drowning young woman, clutching helplessly at the air, trying to breath and failing. Booker remembered the feeling as his lungs filled with water, while Elizabeth held him under. He’d never allow it, even if he was dead, he’d tear a hole through another world and save his daughter. “You son of a bitch!” Much to Thomas’ dismay, Booker didn’t shoot Hanson, rather bludgeoning the older man in the side of the face. Philip’s body crumbled from underneath him with Booker on top repeatedly beating the man’s face in. 

Thomas made no move to stop him, and so Booker continued. When Hanson stopped struggling, Booker finally shot him between the eyes. Thomas was almost surprised, more so when Booker sat back and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “You should have let the courts hang him,” stated Thomas matter-of-factly. Booker just glanced behind his shoulder and shrugged but said nothing. “We should get out of here. If Norman is dead just as Philip claimed he is, then we are wasting our time here.”

“Frederic tried to stop him,” squeaked Sally. Both were startled by her presence, having forgotten she was in the same room. “He was killed too. Mr. Hanson threw him down the basement, made it look like an accident. When he saw that I knew the truth, he threatened to do the very same to me if I didn’t help him.” She wiped furiously at her eyes. “I was so frightened I didn’t know what to do. Oh, Mr. Higgins, please forgive me!” Thomas and Booker exchanged glances for Booker just shrugged. He didn’t care one way or the other what happened to the girl, he just desperately wanted to go home though now he wished he hadn’t sent Dorothy to her mother’s for the night, he wanted nothing more than to hold Anna that moment. 

“Sally get home,” ordered Thomas. “If anyone asks you about this-.”

“I was at my mother’s,” she lifted her chin bravely. “I have no idea what ‘this’ is.” 

Both men nodded approvingly. Booker kept the gun with him, not wanting to leave a trail to him. Even if he wasn’t dead, arrested might be just as bad if Moorley got his hands on Anna. They exited the same way they came in. Once the cool night air hit them, Booker fell back against the way and took a deep breath, glad that was over. But he was still out one thousand dollars which meant his debts would still have to be paid with money he simply did not have.

“Well that could have gone better,” Thomas folded his arms angrily. “That bastard killed his own son.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “I don’t know what’s worse; that he did it, or that I’m surprised.” Booker said nothing, just nodded in agreement. “Men like that are better off dead. You did the world a favor DeWitt.” 

Booker grunted his acknowledgement but didn’t speak. “Are you disappointed you won’t be getting paid?” 

“I know that I did the world a favor,” Booker said irritated. “But the world isn’t going to pay my debts. Nor will it feed my daughter. I didn’t go looking for some damn dead kid because I like to. I did it because I had to.” 

“Hmm,” thought Thomas aloud. “I can’t say I blame you DeWitt. If those gambling slips are anything to go off of, then you’re in some dire straits.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully for a while. “You helped me a great deal with my cause, but it’s far from over. There are too many men out there like Hanson – too many that would kill their own child just so they can make a quick buck. I want your help, DeWitt.”

“Why me?”

“Because you can get things done,” answered Higgins as they walked the streets of New York. “Now I know you’ve got that little girl to look out for and a mess of debts to deal with. So here is my offer and I want you to sleep on it before you make any rash decisions; I want you to go into business for yourself.”

“What?”

“A private agent,” explained Thomas. “Someone is bound to need someone of your talents. I want you to do this, and when we call on you to help us, you face no danger of losing your job. You’ll be in charge of that. Besides,” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “No one can tell you your way of working is too extreme.”

“What are the jobs that you’d need me to do?” Booker didn’t like the sound of this, even though he’d considered working for himself ever since he started working as a Pinkerton. His wife encouraged him, saying it would certainly give him more time home with her and their baby. 

“I can’t tell you that until I know that for myself,” Thomas scratched the back of his head. “All I know is that we’ll need someone like you eventually. And when we do, it’d be much easier to have someone on standby rather than waste time searching.” Booker was about to refuse the deal, sounding a little more risky than Higgins was letting on, but Thomas threw up a hand to stop him. “Before you consider it, just sleep on it.” 

Booker did as he was told as the two men parted ways. He found by the time he arrived back in his room, he was exhausted. He didn’t bother with the whiskey that night he just dragged his feet to his bed and fell asleep.

The next morning, Booker was awakened by the sound of furious knocking at his door. He groaned and rolled over when the sound of a baby on the other side rang into his ears. “He’ll be here soon dear,” said a worried voice as well. He recognized it quickly to be Dorothy. Hopping out of bed, Booker had barely opened it before Anna started reaching for him desperately. He was more than happy to take her, and she burrowed against his neck babbling the whole time, but not her usual cheerful babble. It was sad sounding and small. “Thank goodness you’re alright Booker!” 

“What’s going on?” He led them both inside. He tried to set Anna down to play but she only clutched to her father tighter. Instead, he settled on rubbing small circles on her back as she cooed.

“Norman was found today.” When Booker said nothing, she bowed her head. “They said it looked like he’d been dead for a few days, a bullet to the head.” She wiped the tears that had escaped. “I had also heard someone say that Mr. Hanson was found in the river too, in the same condition though it looked like he’d gone down with a struggle. The last body, no one was really sure who it was, but he could not have been dead more than last night. I- We feared the worst.” Anna burrowed again, as if agreeing.

Before Booker could stop her, she embraced him as well. Booker was taken aback by this, but did not move to push her away. “I’m just glad you’re alive, Booker.” Her cheek pressed against his neck, taking care not to put any weight on his injured shoulder. He hesitantly removed the arm not carrying Anna and patted Dorothy gently on the back. Not intimately, but enough to show that he appreciated the concern. 

Dorothy wrapped her arms around him a little tighter, not uncomfortably. Booker’s eyebrows rose up in a mixture of amusement and curiosity as she rested against him contently for a moment. “Was it that dreadful Mr. Higgins, Booker? Is he dead?”

“No,” he answered honestly. Dorothy pulled away, staring at him incredulously. “Hanson confessed, he was the one who killed Norman. He did it two nights ago.”

“Then who killed Mr. Hanson?”

“I did,” he admitted. “There was a reason Moorley wanted Anna. It turns out he’d been paid to give Anna to Hanson. He changed his mind to keep Anna for himself, and when I find him-.” He trailed off, not wanting Dorothy to hear what would happen if he did find him. “I killed him.”

“Booker,” said Dorothy in horror. “If they find out it was you, they’ll have you hanged!”

“I know,” he nodded. “I imagine it was Higgins who moved the body, that or one of his men. He wants me to help with his cause.”

“Are you going to help him?”

“Don’t very much want to,” answered Booker. “But what are my options? Either work with him and pay my debts, or don’t work with him and let Anna starve. I can’t let that happen.”

Dorothy shook her head, she didn’t like the sound of it. But he was right, no one was going to pay the bills for him, and he needed to provide for his daughter. She voiced her opinion, and Booker even agreed with her, but it didn’t change anything. He was still in debt. He was still a father. And he was still jobless. They stood there in silence for a long time before a second knock at the door sounded. Booker cautiously went to the door to check on who it was.

“Message for you sir,” said the small boy. He handed Booker a telegram before dashing off. 

Booker read over the message. They were instructions to meet Higgins in one of the bars Booker had frequented the past month. “He’s waiting for me,” sighed Booker before handing Anna to Dorothy. 

“Be careful Booker,” pleaded Dorothy. “Please.” Booker cocked her a half smile and a nod before leaving. 

Dorothy sighed and sat on the bed with Anna, who was beginning to fuss that her father was leaving again. She filled her lungs with air before letting out a long wailing sound. Dorothy bounced her to try and calm her, but try as she might, Anna wanted her father and Dorothy was not him. “I know little one, I know,” she said sympathetically. But she stared at the opposite wall, comforted slightly by the medals on his wall. Remembering he was a soldier, trained extensively in combat, it made Dorothy feel a little more certain that Booker was going to be just fine. “He’ll be okay,” she muttered as Anna cried on. “I just know it.”


	13. Chapter 13

True to his word, Thomas waited for Booker though he was not alone. This made Booker nervous as he was face with ten men he’d never met before. Thomas gave Booker a casual nod in greeting and gestured him to take a seat. “Well you came today,” observed Thomas happily. “I’ll take that as a good sign. I thought about what you said last night; that your good deeds would not feed your daughter or pay your debts. What if I told you they could?”

“I’d have a hard time believing it would be that easy,” replied Booker. 

“I can understand that,” nodded Thomas. “Seeing is believing, after all. James, make a believer out of Mr. DeWitt will you?” The white-haired man behind Higgins grabbed a bag at his side and tossed it to Booker. Booker glanced between the bag and Thomas, but he made no move to open it until Thomas urged him on. He opened it and let out a surprised whistle. 

“That’s a lot of money,” noted Booker.

“Fifteen hundred to be exact,” nodded Thomas. “All yours.” Booker raised a questioning eyebrow. “Pay your debts and feed your little girl. In case you forgot, that’s what we’re fighting for. Men to come home from work without worry for debt or starvation.”

“Or to come home at all,” said James in a small voice. One of the men surrounding Thomas gave the older man a pat on the shoulder.

He cocked a thumb back in James’ direction. “James here lost his son to the machines. Hanson didn’t so much as bat an eye, just complained that production would be slowed without the extra hands. There was hardly even enough for a proper funeral for the boy.”

“If what you say is true about last night,” commented James. “Then I’m not surprised that he didn’t care that Luke was killed. Mr. DeWitt, if you hadn’t killed that bastard I would have done it with my bare hands!”

The rest of the men had given their own stories; crippled, dead, starving, in debt, and more importantly frightened that they would lose their jobs for voicing their concerns. 

“Booker the reason these men respect you so much is because they fear you,” said Thomas in a low voice. “Your methods are harsh, but they are final. If we have someone like you at our back, then we’d be unstoppable. You’d be paid handsomely in return.” 

“And if I refuse,” asked Booker still eyeing the money.

“Then take your share today and go,” Thomas waved him off. “But it would be a real shame, the man who had barged into Hanson’s house last night, still has his pistol would look awful suspicious. Isn’t that right Mr. DeWitt? And as for myself, well I was just a concerned passerby on the street.”

“Not much of a choice there,” Booker folded his arms.

“Of course there is; either take the offer, or be hanged for murder. But how will you ever protect that pretty little Anna?”

“And when the wrong person is pissed off? How do I protect my daughter then?”

“Mr. DeWitt, you’ll notice that the money you have is enough to pay your debt, and feed your daughter.” Thomas kept pushing. He already knew Booker was going to say yes to the offer, but he needed to make the man understand why. “We take care of our own around here.”

Booker knew that was probably an exaggeration, but seeing as he didn’t really have much of an option he agreed. “When do I start?”

“Get your business started and spend some time with your girl,” Booker stood to leave. “We’ll contact you when we need you. But first; a drink for our newest friend!” Booker sat back down and accepted the mug. Damn right he earned himself a drink. 

Back at DeWitt’s office, Dorothy threw herself on her bed as she admired her handiwork around the room. The apartment barely resembled itself, looking halfway livable as she spent all afternoon between battling Anna and scrubbing every nook and cranny until her fingers bled. Finally when she finished she realized she’d have to go to the market soon and start dinner. No doubt Booker would be less than pleased if he returned home to find nothing on the table. 

The market had been uneventful, Anna was still angry her father was nowhere to be seen. Dorothy had picked up some rabbit meat and vegetables, with the weather taking a turn for the chilly a nice stew seemed like it would hit the spot.

By the time she had arrived from the market, she noticed her sister waiting by the door. She sighed, of course Maria would be wanting something. Anna was still fussy as they approached the door, giving their position away. She stopped whining suddenly at the sight of Maria, settling on a dark look that was mirrored by her nanny. 

“Dorothy,” greeted her sister with false cheer. “I was hoping to see you.” The sisters embraced, though they could tell the hug was tense. “I saw you in the market today, I tried calling you but you didn’t seem to hear me.”

“I was caught in the crowd and Anna has been a bit grumpy,” lied Dorothy quickly. The truth was that she did not want to speak with her sister, knowing the conversation would take a turn for the nasty, given the bruises on Dorothy’s arms where Booker had grabbed her. “I was in a bit of a hurry to return. I’d hate for Mr. DeWitt return to find his daughter missing.” She emphasized the word and Maria understood perfectly.

“I heard about Norman,” she sighed and bowed her head. “I just wanted to say how sorry I was to hear about the boy. I know that you did not love Hanson, but you cared deeply for his son.” Dorothy thanked her sister for her sympathy. They both went inside the office, taking a seat while Anna watched closely from the floor. “I know there has been some bitterness toward me and my husband ever since this whole business with Anna began. I am beginning to think that we should turn our attention elsewhere, but he insists we keep trying to convince you-.”

“Booker knows everything,” Dorothy stopped her. Maria gasped and put a hand to her heart in fear. “I told him everything and he was very clear in his warning that should Anna turn up missing, he would tear down all of New York to find her.”

“Why would you do that to us, to me? I’m your sister,” accused Maria. She looked hurt, but Dorothy knew that look well enough to know it was just a front she put on to get her way. It had won their father over several times, but it only fueled Dorothy’s ire. “You would throw in your loyalties with this stranger, this drunk? Why?”

“Because Anna belongs with her father,” said Dorothy. She found it hard to maintain her even tone while her sister’s shrills filled the office. “Furthermore, there are plenty of orphans that need a home, but you insist to take one that already has a home, and a father. Why?”

“It is my job as a wife to make my husband happy.”

“I owe Sam no happiness. But I am obligated to my employer.”

“And you are obligated to me as my sister!” 

Dorothy took a deep breath. “Have I not given you enough? It was I that had to take the job so you could look for a husband! It was I, staying days with a man I despise so you could be whisked away. It was I, who cared for mother during her heartsickness after father died. And it was I, who convinced Mr. DeWitt not to stomp through New York to eliminate any threat to his daughter including you! So if either one of us is owed a little something, it is me! Now, I am trying to do what is right, but if you continue to pursue me, I will be forced to once more tell Mr. DeWitt of your intentions.” She finished panting. Maria was shocked at her sister’s outburst, her false hurt face was replaced by a real one.

“Fine Dorothy,” Maria wiped a tear that had escaped as she tried to collect herself. “If this is the way things are going to be between us, then I must take my leave. I will let my husband know of your decision. I had so hoped that you would understand, but you seem incapable of doing so.”

“There is nothing to understand. Taking part in a kidnapping is wrong, if there were any sense left if you, you would understand.”

Maria almost replied when a whistle on the other side of the door startled both women. Anna beamed at the sound and giggled. She began crawling towards the door before Dorothy quickly swooped in and grabbed the child. Dorothy remembered Booker’s reaction when he heard the sound, like it had some significant meaning though not a very good one. Anna struggled in her arms, reaching for the door and whined, she wanted whatever was out there desperately. The only other time she reached with such determination was when she wanted her father. Dorothy wondered for a brief second if it could have been Booker on the other side. 

The sound was soon accompanied by a knock on the door. No voice accompanied it, just a loud insistent pounding. Dorothy clutched Anna to her breast while Maria looked curiously between her sister and their guest at the door. The whistling stopped and the pounding too after a short period of time. Anna fussed more in Dorothy’s arms until she was finally placed back on the ground. 

Dorothy sighed in relief though she still wished Booker would come home soon. Maria crossed the room quickly. She cracked the door to peek if anyone was still around on the other side. When she saw no one, she closed the door and held it with her body. “What was that,” asked Maria. 

“I don’t know but this is the second time it’s come around.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“Mr. DeWitt seems to think so, and he’s given me no reason to doubt him so far. Anna seems to enjoy it, for some reason.”

“Has he said why?”

Dorothy shook her head. “He just made me and Anna hide until he figured out where the noise came from. He didn’t find anything but we never really brought it up.”

“Strange,” whispered Maria. They watched Anna as she frowned up at the door, wherever that delightful song had come from, it had certainly passed. She continued to crawl around on the floor for a short time, trying to find something else to distract her, but every now and again she’d look back at the door to see if her friend had come back for her. 

The sisters parted ways after a short time, Dorothy sent Maria home empty handed and reminded her sister that Booker had known of her and her husband’s intention. “Please,” begged Dorothy. “You’re my sister and I don’t wish you injured or dead, but I do not think he will allow for this kind of talk much longer. Think of what he’d done to the intruders who had threatened to take Anna, do you think he will not do the same to you?”

Maria promised nothing but left quickly before Booker arrived. Dorothy busied herself with dinner, sighing under her breath every so often as she thought about what she had said to her sister. She wasn’t angry that she had to take on all the responsibility, she wasn’t even angry with her sister bidding to have her way all the time. She just couldn’t shake the thought of Norman from her mind. What if Sam hurt Anna, then another child is dead because of her negligence. Could she really live with herself if that were the case? She shook her head, of course not. 

The whistling came and went again, only this time the door knob turned. Dorothy was startled out of her seat and watched the door closely. It opened to reveal Booker a little tipsy, but uninjured. Anna smiled widely and crawled quickly to her father, who was more than happy to take her into his arms. He seemed pleased about something, though Dorothy had no idea what it could possibly be. That very morning he seemed troubled, and now he was content. 

“Things went well with Mr. Higgins,” Dorothy asked when her curiosity had finally gotten the better of her. Booker nodded and ruffled his daughter’s soft raven hair. 

“Fifteen hundred dollars,” he responded. “Enough to pay off my debt collectors, and still have a good bit left over. As of right now, I work for myself.” He let out a long breath and smirked as his daughter cooed happily for her father’s fortune. 

“Booker that’s wonderful,” cried Dorothy merrily. “I’m sure Anna is glad she will have her father around more often.” 

A thousand thoughts rushed through Booker’s head. To some degree, he had given up on trying to believe the events of Columbia were only a dream, rather he was stuck on the idea that maybe it was a warning of what would happen if he screwed this up. He couldn’t allow that to happen, he wouldn’t allow that to happen.

“Dadeh,” cooed Anna. Booker raised an eyebrow he glanced over at Dorothy whose eyes had widened at the little girl who cheerfully repeated herself. “Dadeh.” She put her small hand to his cheek. “Dadeh.”

“Well how about that,” his voice was almost soft enough to be a whisper. Anna’s bright smile was almost matched by her father, if he didn’t look so tired all the time. He planted a sweet kiss on her cheek. Whoever had given Booker a second chance, whether it was the Luteces, or Elizabeth, or even Comstock, he was thankful for it. 

Dorothy had observed the moment between father and daughter with a lump in her throat. She quietly stepped away to finish dinner and hide the fact that their moment had nearly dissolved her into tears. She could not seem to wipe the smile from her own face, pleased to see Booker finally look so happy. It was a nice change of pace from the normally tense man. Though the thought that she may no longer be necessary crossed her mind she waved it off, something to be dealt with later. 

Booker set Anna on the ground to play again. Occasionally she would look behind her and call for her dad, but when he glanced around his desk at her, she’d giggle and crawl away. He let out another long breath and his head hang back. Dorothy couldn’t help but admire the view of the man.

He was handsome, though not conventionally with his rugged appearance – the scars, the lack of shaving in a few days, and certainly the dark circles around his eyes. She hadn’t realized she liked the color of his eyes as well. In her youth, Dorothy found that she fantasized about blue, bright eyed men. Until she realized so did every young woman in New York and possibly further. Now more and more often she daydreamed about dark, intense green eyes. Always aware, always ready to take on trouble the way he had taken the two villains who had broken into his home nearly with his bare hands. That was what she began to admire next, his strength. His wide shoulders and solid physique, she wondered what it must have been like to have been his wife, held by his strong arms at night.

She wondered briefly, about his wife, the former Mrs. DeWitt. He never mentioned her, even when she caught him in a far off gaze while he held his daughter. He played his lack of attention on something else or simply told her to leave it alone. “Smells good,” Booker snapped her out of her thoughts with his sudden comment. He didn’t bother to pick up his head, rather allowed himself to relax completely in his chair. 

“It’ll be ready soon enough,” she replied quickly. “So I hope you brought the appetite you did yesterday.” He nodded and finally sat up with a small grin on his face. Dorothy liked his smile, it was small but genuine. She set his place at the table and gestured him to come take his seat at the table before serving herself a bowl. The savory scent of stew greeted Booker’s nose as he sat down, causing his stomach to rumble loudly. He hadn’t realized he was so hungry. Like before, he said little as he wolfed his food, hardly looking up from his bowl for more than a second.

Dorothy barely picked at her food, still having been bothered by her sister. She owed Maria nothing, there was no denying that. But the fact that she was so determined to get Anna for her husband bothered Dorothy. “Booker,” she started quietly. Booker paused from his meal to look up at her. “I was wondering, is there any reason that Sam would be so concerned about Anna? I mean, is there some sort of history between you two?” 

Booker set his fork down and gave her a hard look. Dorothy instantly regretted bringing the subject to his attention. “My sister mentioned being so determined to make her husband happy. But it just seemed odd that of all children in the world, he decided that he just had to have Anna. Even after his deal with Mr. Hanson. Why is he still so determined?”

Booker took a long slow breath, unlike the happy ones he had taken earlier, he seemed uneasy. “Because of my wife.”

“Your wife?”

“I didn’t know it for a while, but my wife was originally engaged to Moorley,” explained Booker. “She wanted nothing to do with him after some fallout between the two. When Moorley found out that I was with her, he wasn’t too happy with it, especially when we ran into each other around the street or on at a job. He had no idea that we had a daughter. I’m guessing him having Anna would be his way of getting me back.”

“But what about him falling in love with Anna?”

“She looks like her mother more than she does me. To him, Anna isn’t just some baby. She’s the woman he couldn’t get his way with, not while I’m around. He didn’t suddenly fall in love with Anna, he wanted her the moment he found out about her. Hanson was just some means to an end.”

“So why would my sister want to help him?”

“My guess? He conjured up a story to make me the bad guy, something like I just swooped in and stole his girl. Whatever the case, it doesn’t matter. Anna is my daughter and I’d have to be dead first before I hand her over to that son of a bitch.”

Dorothy said nothing, letting the story sink in for a short time. Her sister had been trying to get back at a man she didn’t know, nor did she understand. Though, the more Dorothy tried to make sense of him, the less she understood herself. “Did you and Moorley have a history? Before your wife?”

“We served together in the 7th. When things went to hell, we all saw a side of ourselves that we didn’t much care about.” 

“Yours, being that you were so vicious.” 

Booker nodded. 

“What about Sam?”

“We found a child, a little girl she couldn’t have been much older than… Five maybe? The things I had done had finally struck me. I thought they did the same for him, but when I turned my back on him for ten minutes, the child was dead.”

“How?”

“You really don’t want to know,” he breathed as he tried to shake the images out of his head. “Later, some of the men decided to try to make up for what they did, they were baptized. I almost joined them, but I couldn’t go through with it. He did, and now he pretends like the things he did don’t exist. It never sat right with me, but I tried not to make it my business.”

“Did your wife know about what he had done?”

“No.” 

“You didn’t tell her?”

“She didn’t ask nearly as many questions as you,” he grunted. “Either way, even if he was my best friend, I don’t take lightly to someone taking my daughter.” 

“Booker,” she placed her hand lightly on his arm and gave him her most sincere promise. “If it takes my last breath, I will see to it that Anna is kept safely were she belongs.”

“I know,” he confirmed. “Do you really think I’d be keeping your around if I didn’t?”

“You mean-?”

“I don’t know when Thomas is going to sending for me. When he does, I need to know I have someone reliable. That is if you want to stay, I’m not going to bend your arm for it.”

“I would love to Booker,” she watched the curious baby play with her toes happily while the adults spoke. 

“Good,” he smirked. “I suppose we’ll have to find you somewhere else to sleep, tomorrow we’ll see about a bed to bring into Anna’s room. You two can sleep there for now.”

“For now?”

“I can’t raise Anna in a place like this, can I?”

Dorothy smiled as she shook her head. Things seemed to be turning in the right direction for Booker and she was glad for it. Also, she was relieved that she still had her job, working for Booker was far more enjoyable than she thought it would have been, despite his temper. She began cleaning up their plates as Booker focused his attention on his little girl who was giggling madly over something. Dorothy briefly thought about the promise she made to Booker, ‘if it takes my last breath…,’ she has said. 

She had meant it.


	14. Chapter 14

Five Years Later…

Years passed, Anna had grown from a baby to a little girl. Booker’s career had proved a lucrative one between the jobs he did for Thomas and the private contracts he received from the general public, all who were willing to pay handsomely for his services. He had moved them out of his office and into a modest size home a year after his business had taken off. Anna had plenty of room to run and play, and the park was close by so she could play with other children. 

Dorothy kept her employment with Booker, remaining a loyal nanny, and a loyal friend to Booker – though he never mentioned it. She had a nice room to herself rather than sleeping in the same room as Booker (which her mother would later admit she thought was a scandal) and a bed to herself that was not the lumpy mattress Booker kept in his own room. She hadn’t heard from her sister, only about her in passing with her mother who lived only a short distance. 

Maria was doing well, save for her heartache that she was not yet a mother. Sam was still treating her fine, but his job kept him away so often that conceiving a child looked less and less likely. Often she had asked about Dorothy and Anna, and sneered whenever Mr. DeWitt was so much as mentioned. Lily knew there was some sort of hostility between her daughters and it saddened her greatly, especially when no one would tell her what was going on. 

When Lily had finally been introduced to Dorothy’s employer, she did not fail to notice how the two had become closer over the years. Booker treated her less and less like an employee and more and more like a trusted friend. She had asked her daughter a few times, what exactly her intentions were with Booker, but Dorothy always laughed it off, telling her mother that he was only a friend and someone she just so happened to work for. 

“Someone who is also young, and handsome,” Lily had noted. Dorothy’s face turned a most delightful color of pink. “And someone who seems to think a great deal about your opinion.”

Dorothy noticed it more and more how in passing he’d ask her advice, if he didn’t like it he wouldn’t argue, just make a troubled face and try a different approach. If he didn’t like when she had to take a paddle to his daughter’s rear-end, he would bite the inside of his bottom lip and step away before he became violent. He tried to keep his temper in line most of the time, occasionally when he had too much to drink his words would become harsh, but she was somewhat used to it. The only problem she had with Booker was there were always bits and pieces of himself that he refused to let anyone else know about him. He never talked about his childhood, he avoided the topic of his wife, and he always left out large bits of information about when he was in the army as if he were hiding something. 

He mostly spoke about his mad adventures with Thomas and his men, though Dorothy did not like the sound of it. She always worried on the nights he would return late, that he would not come home to his daughter ever again, when he finally did show up she would scold him. She’d wag her finger at him until he told her what sort of hunt he had been on.

“Booker,” sighed Dorothy. “You have to understand. It is not I that I worry about. It’s that little girl sleeping in the next room worried to death that you will not be returning.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said in his usual tired voice. “She’s got nothing to worry about.”

Three weeks later, she did.

It was early December, snow littered the ground and the once slight nip of autumn air had quickly turned quickly into a frigid bite threatening winter around the corner. Work was becoming harder to come by, especially for the workers who didn’t want to complain with the holidays right around the corner. But Thomas had managed to coax some of the men into joining the cause. Booker, for his part, found and silenced anyone who needed it. The men in the Union, the one who remembered his actions most vividly were weary of his presence, though happy to have him on their side. He didn’t speak much, and when he did, it was about where he would next be needed. 

That night, it was chasing down a rat that had been selling secrets to men like Fink. Giovanni Camponelli, an Italian who was mixed up with his own debts was offered to be paid for any secrets he would sell to Jerimiah Fink who was running into trouble with the Unions. Booker seemed to be particularly interested in slowing down any efforts on Fink’s part, though he never said why. Giovanni had gotten word that Booker was looking for him, and like any rat he scurried away at the sight of the man.   
Now Booker was stuck chasing the man down when he would have settled very much for just shooting him and being done with it, but Thomas insisted to keep Camponelli alive. Why, Booker had no idea. He figured it may have been to make an example out of the traitor. 

He knew it was the middle of December and any other day, Booker would have paid better attention to where they were going. It wasn’t until he caught the sight of a familiar woman in a blue dress that Booker felt the ground give way under both men. With a startled cry the icy waters of the river greeted him, he nearly gasped as the water enveloped him with the sensation of a thousand prickly needles in his skin. He quickly swam towards the surface, forgetting about Camponelli until something grabbed for his ankle. Booker cursed inwardly and kicked repeatedly at the hand but Giovanni was desperate and willing to do anything to ensure his survival and so he kept reaching and climbing despite the multiple attempts to get rid of him. 

Both men heard the muffled cries above them, someone had come to their aid offering multiple pairs of arms for each to reach for. Booker stopped focusing on his target and turned instead to the arms giving the Italian man the opening he needed to climb to safety while getting rid of his attacker. He made quick progress with the slender man and soon they found themselves face to face. Booker squirmed to get out of the man’s grip, his lungs on fire by this point. True to his method, Giovanni had reached the grabbing hands before Booker, as he was being pulled to safety, he made sure to deliver a swift kick to the exPinkerton’s face sending him into darkness.

When Booker reawakened, two thoughts crossed his mind. One was that there was a possibility that he was still in Columbia and this was attempt one hundred twenty four. The second was that if he never saw another body of water, it would be too soon. The water in his lungs came out with a violent force as he coughed and sputtered. “Thomas,” a voice called loudly much to Booker’s dismay. His head was pounding harder than any hangover he’d ever had before. “Come quick, he’s back.”

Soon enough Thomas was standing over him. “He’s alive?”

“Yes sir,” As Booker’s vision was able to focus more, he noticed James.

It didn’t take him long to like he older man over the years. He was the only who didn’t treat Booker like a Pinkerton and more like he belonged. He had told Booker that his now deceased Luke would have been about the younger man’s age. He treated Booker like he was his lost son, and for that Booker was grateful. 

“How do you feel,” Thomas offered his hand to the still prostrate Booker. He took the offer and groaned to his feet. Thomas chuckled, “yes I’d imagine so. Come we should get you to a doctor, can you walk?”

“I’m fine,” Booker lied. It was apparent the moment he tried to take a step and nearly collapsed had James not caught him. Booker sighed heavily before returning to his feet. “What happened to Camponelli?”

“You see why we hired you? You’ve got spirit.”

“Though you nearly lost it boy,” chided James. “You’re in no condition to worry about Giovanni, he’s gone that’s all you need to know. Now, as Thomas said, you need to see a doctor let’s go.”

“No,” Booker barked forcefully. At the surprised expression from both men, Booker continued. “I just gotta get home. Just need some sleep is all, I’ll be fine by morning.”

“Booker,” Thomas pushed. “You not only nearly drown, you nearly froze to death. This isn’t something you just take a nap and wake up feeling better.” 

“I said I’m fine,” Booker countered dangerously low. “I don’t need no doctor, I just need to get home.”

Thomas and James exchanged a look between them. It was well known between the two of them just how stubborn Booker was and they knew there would be no convincing him of otherwise. “Fine,” Thomas relented with a sigh. “But if you take ill, that’s your own fault.”

“Fine by me.” 

Thomas and James surrounded the younger man, and helped him home noticing with each step that Booker was having more and more difficulty staying awake. 

Dorothy had finally managed to get Anna to bed. Something she realized would never change with the young girl. If anything she had learned that though there were few qualities she had inherited from him, Anna was as stubborn and could be as grumpy as her father. Now as the five-year-old girl slept peacefully, Dorothy tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for Booker to come home. He was late again, and while she was no wife of his, Anna was beginning to worry. Feeling the freezing December air, Dorothy built a small fire and cozied up as she continued waiting. 

“Where on earth is that man?” 

She was answered by the front door being thrown open by Thomas who was carrying a barely conscious Booker with another man on the right that Dorothy did not know. Booker’s head hung forward, like it had simply weighed too much to keep up, his hair and clothes looked wet from where she was standing, and his skin looked deathly pale.

“Good Lord,” she exclaimed quietly. This was certainly not the time to wake Anna, there was no telling what the girl would do to see Booker in such a state. “What happened?”

“F-f-fell,” shivered Booker though he didn’t look up. “Through the g-goddamn ice.” Dorothy gasped loudly and assisted in bringing Booker closer to the fire. His hands were almost painfully cold to touch but she ignored the feeling. It was a wonder Booker was still alive, let alone awake. 

“How did this happen?” It was directed at Thomas with no hidden hostility. She knew that man was going to cost Booker his life, and now the reality of how close he had brought the younger man set in. 

“Chasing a man,” Thomas answered shortly. He didn’t think much of Dorothy, especially when she narrowed her grey eyes at him like he was an impertinent child, and spoke harshly to him. “We needed Booker to track down a man for us, and he did.” 

“And he nearly died!”

“And h-he’s still r-right h-here,” Booker added annoyed that they were talking about him like he wasn’t around.

“Never mind that,” Dorothy waved. “What has the doctor said about his condition? Is there any tonics or medicine he is to take?”

“We’re going to send for the doctor to come tomorrow morning,” answered Thomas. 

“WHAT!?!” Boomed Dorothy and Booker at the same time.

“I said no doctors!”

“He could be dead by tomorrow morning!”

Booker finally picked up his head to glare at Dorothy, but she didn’t seem fazed by it. Rather, she met his glare head on and returned one of her own, not failing to notice how exhausted he looked. “Why on earth will you not see a doctor? What are you going to tell your daughter when she sees you like this?”

He said nothing, just continued glaring. Dorothy nodded her head, pleased by his lack of answers. Thomas found the two amusing but shifted his hold on Booker. “Tomorrow morning it is then. With that being said, let’s get Booker up to his room, no doubt he’s eager to retire for the night.” They escorted him up, with Dorothy closely following, not quite done chiding for the night.

Thomas and James did little more than drop Booker off in his room. They bid the man goodnight, not surprised when he told the two of them to go to hell, and quickly left. He fell back on his bed with his eyes closed, finding it was harder and harder to stay awake. Dorothy cleared her throat to remind him she was still with him. “What,” he murmured. 

“You could have been killed,” she said suddenly losing her will to be angry at him. Instead she sat beside him on his bed. “What possessed you to chase that man onto the ice?”

“Didn’t pay attention to where I was going.”

Dorothy harrumphed, “You shouldn’t sleep in those wet clothes or you’ll catch cold. I’ll set something out for you to wear.”

But Booker was breathing deeply with his eyes closed. Dorothy quirked an eyebrow in surprise, how did he fall asleep so quickly? Better yet, how did he fall asleep while he was still half soaking wet? She glanced from the door to the sleeping man on the bed, debating whether or not to just leave him there. As she stood to leave, a little voice in her head nagged at her. 

Oh don’t just leave him there; he’ll freeze to death by the morning. 

Dorothy ignored it, it’d certainly serve him right to get sick for this. ‘Didn’t pay attention to wear I was going,’ he’d told her. She half wanted to shake him until he rattled for the state he had left Anna in before she had gone to bed, and the state she’d be in tomorrow when she found out her father was ill. 

He wouldn’t be ill if you’d simply wake him.

Or, he’d just be grumpy with her and tell her to leave him alone. Besides, what if he was a very heavy sleeper?

Are a few buttons really that difficult to undo?

No, but lifting a man who was twice her size would be. And what would her mother think if she’d ever heard about this? Though Dorothy guessed that she’d be tickled pink at the idea that their relationship was slightly less than professional, she could also imagine her mother crying out a scandal and speaking to half of New York about it. Not especially pleased when the word got around to her sister. 

The sister who will probably be adopting Anna after Booker dies from the cold that you could prevent by helping him change? What would your mother know about this if no one ever speaks of it again?

Dorothy sighed, there was going to be no avoiding this would there? With a silent prayer that he’d simply wake up, she tried gently shaking Booker. When he didn’t budge, she let out a long breath. “Booker come on you can’t sleep in this state.” But he didn’t respond or show any indication that he had heard her. She made multiple attempts to wake him, but Booker did not seem to notice her in his slumber. Dorothy tapped her foot and bit her bottom lip, there was no other choice, she was going to have to undress him. As if to add insult to injury, she found she was slightly excited by the idea, and it did not seem too difficult a task, couldn’t be any worse than changing a wiggling child. Except he was completely still and if his former Pinkerton contract was accurate, at nineteen he was pushing two hundred pounds there was no telling how much he had gained since she began feeding him. 

“Enough stalling,” she convinced herself. She started with his vest, which would have been easier if she did not fumble so much with the buttons in anxiety. Once that was done, she moved on to his shirt, starting from the bottom and working her way up every so slowly. “What will you think if you catch me?” 

Booker didn’t reply he didn’t so much as twitch which told Dorothy that he was out like a light. It worried her though, as she had always remembered her friend to be a light sleeper. If he a soft bump in the night he was up for the rest of the day. Grumpy, but awake. She opened his shirt, trying to untuck the fabric from his trousers. She pulled forcefully, wondering why she didn’t just think to start with his pants instead. Finally after the extreme efforts on her part to remove his undershirt, Booker’s upper half was bare. Try as she might not to, Dorothy caught her eye wandering more than a few times to the exposed skin.

His skin was pale and raised with gooseflesh. Hard muscles line with scars from events Booker would never speak about, though she had a vague idea. His chest rose and fell evenly with each breath he took, though every now and again it was interrupted with a harsh cough. Since Booker was asleep, she supposed it would be alright for her to feel some sympathy for him. He was only doing what he thought was best, so he could provide for his daughter better than he had started with. His pants came off without much effort but her cheeks were on fire as she realized how close her hands were to his most private organ. 

When she finished, she wasted no time to throw his blanket over his naked form and bolt out of the room like she was on fire. Dorothy crossed the hall to her room staring at the ceiling trying not to think of Booker waking up tomorrow without clothes on and realizing that the only person who could have undressed him was her. She wondered if he’d blush like she did, or if he’d just shrug it off and continue like nothing happened. Though the more she thought about it, nothing did happen, she was simply helping a friend in need. A male friend, remove all his clothing while he was sleeping.

Dorothy groaned and rolled over in her bed, it was going to be a long night.


	15. Chapter 15

Booker could not remember the last time he had slept in so late. Though he didn’t like to be the last one awake, it certainly did wonders for his pounding head. He sat up, more than a little surprised to find that he was completely naked as he didn’t recall doing it himself. For a moment he concluded that it must have been Dorothy, but shook his head. The way she was wagging her finger at him the previous night, she would have let him get sick just to teach him a lesson.

He forced himself out of bed, still a little woozy from his fall, but managed to make himself decent before he joined daughter in the kitchen. She was animated as usual to his delight, talking about some dream she had to Dorothy who was dismissively nodding and telling her how nice the story was. “Then there was a large bird, and he wanted to be my friend, but I don’t think daddy liked him too much. So he kept trying to eat him, I think.” 

Booker shook his head, he never wanted to so much as think about Songbird again. Though she was wrong that the bird wasn’t trying to eat him, it was trying to slice him to ribbons and leave the remains to fall like rain from the sky. He cringed, not a pleasant thought while the room was spinning. Anna stopped talking suddenly when she saw Booker, nearly tackling him to the floor in her excitement. 

“I missed you!” She cried happily. Her high voice, while still the most wonderful sound in the world to Booker, did bring back the pounding sensation in his head. He played it off, hoping she wouldn’t notice the grimace on his face. 

Dorothy did and led the small girl back to the table to finish her breakfast. Booker noticed the slight blush on her cheeks when she bid her employer good morning and asked how he slept. He thought again of how he’d ended up naked in his bed and smirked, so it was Dorothy. 

“The doctor will be in soon to check on you,” she informed. He didn’t like that one bit, especially when he told Thomas that he didn’t need a doctor. “I can see the face you’re making Mr. DeWitt, and like it or not you need to be looked over.”

“Why,” piped in his daughter. Booker inwardly groaned, he really didn’t want to explain to his daughter what had happened the previous night. “What’s wrong with daddy?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” his accusing stare shot to Dorothy. “I’m fine I just needed to lay down a minute.”

“You still look awful pale to me,” Dorothy folded her arms under her breast, clearly unimpressed with his behavior over his wellbeing. She crossed the room in three long steps and slapped her hand against his forehead. “Warm too. You must have gotten ill sleeping with your hair all wet.” 

“I’ll be f-“

“Just as soon as the doctor looks over you,” she put her foot down on the subject. She realized how brave she was being against her employer, knowing that he had final say. But Dorothy was tired of him ignoring his health so he could go off gallivanting on other adventures that would kill him before he turned thirty. She set a bowl in front of him, some sort of creamed wheat. The smell of milk made Booker’s stomach turn. “My point exactly.”

“Daddy, why was your hair all wet? That’s how you get sick!” Anna wagged her finger at him, as he pushed the bowl away from him. He sighed, it would seem the females of the house were ganging up on him again. He supposed he should have been used to it by this point. 

Before he had to explain the events of the previous night, a loud rapping sounded at the door in time with his head. He swore under his breath before standing, but Dorothy was faster. She knew Booker well enough to know he’d try to send the doctor away. A surly old man, Doctor Bennet was not known for any particular love of Booker, and didn’t make it any secret. When asked why, it was the young man’s obvious disregard for his life, or Bennet’s time. He’d treated the teenaged ex-soldier with a stab wound after a brawl, the Pinkerton with a head injury, and now the private investigator for nearly drowning. 

“Doctor Bennet,” greeted Dorothy as pleasantly as she could. “How nice to see you.”

“Nice,” questioned the doctor curtly. “You call my coming here to treat for that half-dead fool, nice?” Dorothy opened her mouth but quickly shut it as she lacked words to say. Dr. Bennet mumbled under his breath as he shoved Dorothy to the side. Booker was not so kind as to greet Bennet, rather he was more than content to glare at the old man from his seat at the table. They didn’t speak a word but they knew the process; first it was his temperature, then his pulse and his blood pressure, and finally some awful tasting medicine that Dorothy would be more than happy to make sure he took.

Booker waved his arm, it was better not to put this off. He led them to his room for privacy, cursing at Thomas the whole time. 

“Thomas said you fell through the ice,” Bennet threw down his bag and began rummaging through it as Booker began unbuttoning his shirt. “What foolishness were you getting into this time boy?”

“Just doing my-“

“Job, yes you say that every time,” sighed Bennet. He listened to Booker’s heart as he continued, “You seem to have a strange fixation for meeting your maker early.” Booker didn’t respond to that, only breathed deep when he was told to. “Hmm, heart’s steady, if a little fast. Lungs sound a little wet, but then trying to breathe water instead of air will do that. Temperature is a bit high, I imagine it will be for a while. Well Mr. DeWitt, I have a tonic for you to take for the week, and I would advise plenty of rest. But seeing as you never take my advice, do with this information as you please.” He left Booker with a vile of medicine, some sort of cold syrup that smelled foul even from inside its bottle. “A teaspoon of this twice a day should do the trick. Now seeing as I am a busy man and must treat the other fine people of New York, I would appreciate if this was the last time I saw you for more than twice a week.”

“Thanks doc,” muttered Booker as he began to dress his self again. He felt exhausted again, no doubt from his fever, though he wondered why it came on so suddenly. 

“A word of caution to you Mr. DeWitt,” warned Bennet. “The medicine will make you drowsy and if what Thomas was telling me was true; you’d better be sure you’re taking extra care to watch over that pretty daughter of yours. No doubt they will find your vulnerability the perfect time to strike.” 

“Anything else?”

“It may make you a bit fuzzy in memory,” Bennet raised an eyebrow. “So I would watch your reaction around Ms. Small.” Booker glanced up questioningly at what Bennet could possibly have meant by that. “A pretty young woman in your house, making your dinner, watching your child. If you didn’t pay her, she’d almost be your wife. Or at least your replacement of Annabe-“

“Watch my Ps and Qs,” Booker’s eyes narrowed at the old doctor before him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They both went downstairs, Booker led the way, bothered by what Bennet had said about replacing his first wife. It was a wound long since healed, but a scar that was still tender. He saw Bennet to the door, slamming it harder than he should have. “Jackass,” he whispered. 

“Booker,” Dorothy scolded him. “Must you use that language in front of your daughter?”

“Sorry.” 

“What did Dr. Bennet say?”

“I’ll be fine. He gave me some medicine that’s supposed to make me as good as new.” 

“Good,” smiled Dorothy. “I’m glad to hear it.” She studied his face, his green eyes looked troubled though she knew he would never tell her the cause. “I was going to take Anna to the park today. It would be a good time for you to take that medicine and lay down for a while. I’m sure some rest would do you wonders.”

He nodded in agreement. “Not too long,” he instructed. “Thomas is telling Bennet something he aint telling me. I don’t like the sound of that and I don’t want her out long.”

“Of course Booker,” Dorothy was slightly offended by whatever he’d meant by that. She’d always taken extra care to watch Anna, so as not to have a repeat with Norman. Some days she wondered if Booker truly trusted her with his daughters, and at moments like this she did not think so.

“Are we still going to build a snowman Dorothy,” Anna broke the tension between the two of them. She stood in the door with her coat and boots, her mittens were already snug on her hands. Dorothy affirmed the girl’s excitement and helped her prepare for the cold. “I wish daddy could come along with us.”

“Daddy’s not feeling so well,” replied Dorothy as she shoved the little girl’s foot into her boot. “But maybe after he feels better we can all go to the park together.” Anna’s eyes lit up at the sound of it. Booker had spent most of his time working, drinking, and still gambling though he’d learned a hard lesson about biting off more than he could chew. There were few days his daughter would see him at all, though he made it a point to come into her room after she was sleeping and kiss his daughter goodnight if only so he could see her for a minute or two. 

“Will you really daddy,” pleaded Anna. He nodded and she launched into his embrace with a squeal. Booker let out a loud ‘oof’ as he held on to his little girl. Maybe when he felt better, he would actually keep that promise. She skipped out the door, taunting Dorothy that she would be a rotten egg if she was the last one to the park. 

“Not too long,” he reminded her. She waved her hand in acknowledgement, and soon they were scurrying to the park. Booker let out the yawn he’d been holding in since the doctor had left. He skipped the medicine and went straight to bed. 

Dorothy and Anna arrived back just as the sun began to set. Dorothy bit her upper lip, Booker was going to kill her – a threat she feared would be literal. The day had been a good one, Anna had her little friends help her with a snowman, which now stood proudly at the entrance, its stick-arm waving high in the air as if to bid them goodbye. The children had a snowball fight to which Anna proudly stood as the victor having taken only one snowball to the back, rather than the other children who had been on the receiving end of her wrath. Dorothy watch with amusement as long raven curls bounced as she oh-so strategically snuck up behind her foes. 

They tiptoed as they approached the darkened house, afraid that Booker would be waiting for them. Dorothy was surprised that not a thing had been touched since they had departed, not a light turned on, not a single sign of life. If he hadn’t been sick, Dorothy would have thought he had left. “Booker,” she called as she scaled the stairs to his room. When he didn’t respond, she began to worry. “Booker, are you here?” 

“Daddy,” Anna followed closely behind. “We’re here! Where are you?” 

They stopped outside his door, Dorothy bit the inside of her lip as she wondered if she should bother knocking or simply barge in and see if he was still in his room. She gave a quick set of taps on the door. “Are you alright?” Once more she was met with silence and she silently opened the door. To her surprise Booker was still curled up with his pillow, his long fingers curled and uncurled and his brow furrowed then smoothed out. 

Anna peaked around her nanny’s legs to see her father. She giggled at the sight of her father was certainly one she wasn’t what she had expected him to look like. She imagined he was always intense, always grumpy about something. 

“Booker,” Dorothy sat at the edge of his bed. She gave him a gentle shake startling him awake. He studied her as if he were seeing her for the first time. She smiled, he was probably just thrown off from his medicine, and she was more than a little relieved that he was in his room resting but not dead. “You’ve slept the day away. We were beginning to worry.” 

He took her hand in his. It was cold, but still warmer than her own after her excursions. “Sorry to have scared you two.” He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed an uncharacteristic kiss on her knuckles. Anna audibly gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth to stop the squeal of excitement. To Anna, Dorothy was the closest thing she’d had to a mother – having never met her – and so she did not object to the thought of Booker and Dorothy together. 

Dorothy, not quite as thrilled about Booker’s bold action, snatched her arm back. “Mr. DeWitt I’m not entirely sure that’s appropriate!” Booker seemed slightly hurt that she was so offended by his attempt at charm.

“You’ve never been this shy around me befo-“ Something crossed in his expression. Like he finally understood what was going on around him. “Oh shit you’re Dorothy.” She nodded, now blushing madly. It seemed to her that he was bound and determined to keep her that color for a long time. He tried to avoid her gaze as he felt his own cheeks turn hot. “Sorry, the doc said this would happen with that medicine.”

“It’s quite alright,” she laughed pleasantly. It relaxed Booker to know that she didn’t hate him for his impulsive actions. “At least it was my hand and it didn’t get much more intimate than that.” 

“So,” they both shot their attention to the five year old who seemed a little disappointed in the whole deal. “You don’t love my daddy.” The adults seemed shocked by the question. They glanced at each other, then back to Anna, neither sure how to answer. She padded across the room to sit with her father as well, seeing as the moment she was hoping for had long since passed. 

“I wouldn’t say I don’t love your father,” answered Dorothy. Even Booker seemed a little shocked at this answer. “I love Booker the way I love all of my friends. They are all very dear to me, and your father is too. But I am not in love with your father. There is a very big difference.” 

“What is it?”

“You’ll understand it when you’re older.”

Anna twisted her face as what her nanny told her spun around in her brain. “Okay,” she settled for the answer. 

Dorothy cleared her throat as she stood and smoothed her dress. “I’ll bring you up some broth. No doubt you’re hungry.” Booker made a disapproving face at the thought of food. “Something small will do you good. You need to get your strength back. Come on Anna, you can help me.”

The little girl bounced off her father’s bed and quickly skittered her way downstairs. Dorothy followed hot on her heels, wondering why the thought of what she had told Anna had bothered her so much. She couldn’t tell if she was being totally honest or not. Luckily dinner was more of a distraction when she had to chase around young girl and balance cooking on top of it. 

It was the distraction she needed for the time.


	16. Chapter 16

After a week of Dorothy hounding him, Booker had finally managed to finish the last bit of his medicine. Thomas had checked on his employee twice, but even Dorothy noticed that there was something else going on that he was not telling. It made her friend tense, as every time he so much as brought it up, Thomas tried to change the subject to his daughter. The following day was much the same, Thomas had come by for another visit, starting the conversation about when Booker would be able to return to work.

Dorothy was more than glad to answer that before Booker even had a chance to consider it. “You have some nerve coming into this house and asking that. It was your fault he became too sick to work in the first place.”

Thomas was amused by the woman’s sudden reaction to protect him. “I have some nerve coming in and seeing to my friend’s wellbeing? Did you forget that it was our men who saved Booker from drowning?”

“Not this again,” Booker rubbed the bridge of his nose impatiently. He was starting to come around with his health but the sound of those two arguing over him like he was a child was giving him a headache. “Can I answer this for myself?”

Dorothy was suddenly very angry with her friend but she didn’t say anything. “Very well,” she grumbled and stood to leave. “I will be downstairs taking care of your daughter. Soon after Mr. Higgins leaves I’ll prepare you a bath. You’ve been in bed all week some soap would do us all good.” With that she slammed the door behind her.

“Well she’s certainly spirited today,” laughed Higgins as he watched her go. Booker nodded along, wondering what had gotten into her. “I have to admit I’m surprised she managed to stick with you this long and so fiercely.”

“Oh yeah,” asked Booker clearly uninterested with this topic. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know,” shrugged the older man. “I suppose I imagined you to be the most difficult person to work for.”

Booker snorted, “Yeah? Well to hell with you too.” Thomas laughed loudly at that, but when the silence fell over them, Booker caught a glimpse of something else on the man’s mind. “Small talk aside, I doubt you came here just to make sure I’m still alive.”

“How old is little Anna now? Four?”

“Dammit Higgins,” demanded Booker. “What’s going on? I know you’re hiding something from me and I don’t much appreciate being played for a fool. Especially when my daughter is involved, did you get something on Moorley?” 

It was still a battle between the two men – Booker and Sam - though a passive-aggressive one. Moorley would try to plant rumors, but they never lasted very long. Most of New York knew Booker by reputation and that his services have benefitted one way or another. Booker, for his part, was trying to find something that could put Moorley away for a long time without getting himself hanged in the process. In five years, neither men had been successful, but each determined to get the other one out of their lives forever. 

“Nothing more than we already have,” Thomas shook his head. “I’m afraid to say that Moorley has been on the straight and narrow these past years and there’s no evidence to tie him with Hanson, or if anyone is going to listen to the case five years later. But Moorley is the reason I came here. It would appear he has now planted a seed of doubt in the ears of your wife’s family.”

“What,” Booker smirked as he heard that. He hadn’t heard from the Parker family after Annabelle had died, it was a wonder what Moorley could have hoped to achieve with them. They had made it abundantly clear that they wanted nothing else to do with Booker or their child. “What’s he saying?”

“He’s telling them that your wife may have been a little less innocent than you had all originally thought.”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning that before their relationship had ended, Moorley and your girl had an intimate relationship.”

Booker laughed at this, knowing full well that it was a lie. He had been the one to take Annabelle’s innocents away when she had asked him to and it was soon after that they’d married. That aside, she had made it clear to both men that her heart belonged to Booker and that Sam could jump in the river for all she cared. There was no way Moorley could have impregnated her. “Bullshit he did.” 

“I can imagine you would know that based on your marriage,” Thomas agreed. “But the fact of the matter is that the Parker family is beginning to wonder about Anna’s real father -.”

“I’m her real father,” growled Booker dangerously. “Moorley’s been palin’ around with the Belle’s family since before she died. Anything he’s got to say, they’d buy it.”

“Which is my concern,” continued Thomas. “If the wrong word slipped by the right influence, we’ll lose everything. The Unions will no longer support us, the bigwigs will simply laugh at us, and that will give him the opportunity to take your kid.”

“Over my dead body!”

“Which they may very well have after they hang you for kidnapping,” Thomas hollered at him. “Booker you must see those people. Make them believe that Anna is your child, I know you were once a good friend to her cousins.”

Booker raised his eyebrows in surprise. He didn’t know if he would have gone so far as to say they were friends, but he knew them well and he didn’t mind their company. Much like the rest of his wife’s family, George and Margret wanted nothing to do with them after she had died, they avoided him at her funeral, and did not so much as look at little Anna. Booker wasn’t mad that they had blamed him for her death, he was angry that they had blamed his daughter. 

“How am I supposed to see them,” shrugged Booker. 

“They intend to see you before very long,” informed Thomas. “I’ve no doubt they want the truth, but if the relationship they had with your wife is what it was rumored to be, they’ll want to hear your side before too long. My sources say that they’ll be here before the week is out.”

“Good,” though truthfully, Booker hated the thought of seeing them again. He knew what was going to be next, the questioning gazes, the way they’ll look to Anna and try to find something that resembled Sam so they could justify their presence in his home with the child.

Thomas had said little more on the matter, aside from informing him about the sneak he had following Moorley around, still looking for dirt on the man. Booker was appreciative of this, and so they said their goodbyes.

Once he was gone, Dorothy had reappeared from the other side of the door. Booker sighed, no doubt she had been listening to the whole conversation and heard everything. She asked with her eyes, though she dared not mention the question out loud. “They never slept together Dorothy,” he said with annoyance.

“How can you be so certain?”

“Because I was her first,” he spoke sadly. “She and I used to sneak out and meet each other. One day she asked me to meet at my place – that office I used to live in – and everything just happened. I was with her after her relationship with Moorley, if something went on between them, I would have known.”

“Was that how she got pregnant?”

“No she was pregnant after we got married, maybe a month or so.”

“Do you still miss her?”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” the words were barely audible. Dorothy knew what that meant; he missed her terribly. She knew better than to push the subject, if he didn’t want to talk about it then it would do no good to him or his health to make him speak. 

“I have that bath prepared for you,” she was quick to change the subject and he was grateful. She followed him to the bathroom, asking if he’d need anything else before she left, Booker didn’t fail to notice the blush on her cheeks. He refused, to which she seemed happy, and finally was left in peace.

Booker was normally the jump in and jump out sort when it came to bathing. He didn’t like stewing for more than five minutes, he didn’t like the way it made his skin wrinkle, and he really didn’t like rinsing as that meant dunking his head underwater. Today was different, all the aches and pains of being bed ridden for days were soothed as soon as the hot water hit his skin. After he scrubbed his self he sat back against the tub and sighed, he hadn’t felt so relaxed since… When? His brow furrowed as he tried to remember – though the soonest that came to his memory was almost six years ago.

Booker had been nose deep in work and felt as though the day had beaten him to a bloodied pulp. By the time he had reached his home, he saw his wife in nothing but her underwear preparing a bath. She startled a little when he shut the door behind him and smile when she realized who it was. “No cards tonight dear?”

“I’m beat,” he ran his fingers through his hair and yawned. A smirk crept across his face as he wrapped his arms around the woman he shared his home with. Always amazed that she had chosen – willingly chosen – to share a life with him. “Besides, this would’ve been a hell of a sight to miss.” Annabelle giggled and tried to cover herself when Booker stopped her. 

“Well I was just going to get a bath and go to bed myself,” she indicated the tub. “But it would be much nicer if I didn’t have to take one alone.” Her fingers wrapped around his vest and the way she bit her lip made his blood boil. He grinned, and captured her lips with his own.

“Now, how am I supposed to say no to that,” he chuckled as she began stripping him of his clothing. 

The bath was hot, he hissed as he tried to get his body acclimated with the heat. But soon, when his wife joined him, he didn’t mind the heat. In fact – compared to the woman sitting on his lap facing him with what had to be her sauciest stare ever, the water seemed to cool almost instantly. They stayed like that for a long time, either filling the time with kisses or love making. Water had sloshed out of the tub and onto the floor and his wife was making all the sounds he absolutely loved when she made, her nails every so often digging into his back almost hard enough to draw blood but he never minded. 

By the time they had finally stepped out, greeted instantly by the freezing air but neither cared, they made love one last time before they fell asleep.

The sound of knocking and shook him awake as he hadn’t realized he had dozed off. It was Dorothy, checking on her friend. “Mr. DeWitt, it’s been a half hour, surely the water is getting cold.” Booker sighed, ‘Mr. DeWitt’ again – that meant something was wrong. 

“I’m fine,” he answered. “And it’s Booker.” Though he could see her, he could imagine her rolling her eyes at him. He stood and stretched, it was one of the things he hated about getting sick – aside from the god-awful tasting medicine – was how drowsy he had felt. He had been perfectly awake a half hour ago, and then he felt as though he hadn’t slept in days in a mere matter of seconds. Finally reaching for his clothes, he began dressing himself and thought more about that night with his wife. 

It saddened him, he missed the woman he had shared a home with, a bed with, a life with – and all of that only in a little over a year. Some mornings, Booker had expected to roll over and find her still sleeping or he’d brace himself to try to wriggle out of her grasp without waking her, only to find he was alone.

Well, not completely alone.

Though he did miss his wife, he had Anna. He could imagine her, up in her bedroom playing with her favorite bear or reading her favorite books, she was his whole world. Now that she was back in his life, he didn’t know how he had survived so long without her. Those large blue eyes that looked at her father admirably, it shamed him to know what he had almost done. Another knock at the door reminded Booker that he also had Dorothy. Though a woman, she was as strong willed as he was, and his daughter wasn’t the only who enjoyed her company. When she met him outside the door, she checked him over to make sure he had dried properly, so as not to aggravate his fever. She gave him the clearance to go on back to his room where he slept like the dead.


	17. Chapter 17

It was two days later, Booker’s fever had broken and he was beginning to feel like his old self again. Dorothy still insisted that he take it easy over the next few days. Booker hadn’t planned on going anywhere, knowing at any second, George and Margret would be over to see him. Dorothy had offered her support, saying she would keep them away as long as possible, but he had turned her down. It would be better to simply get it over with and deal with the problem before it escalated into something ugly. Besides, his avoidance would seem suspicious, like he was buying time to make excuses. Anyone could say whatever they wanted about the Parker family, but they certainly weren’t stupid.

They came around noon, much the same as Booker remembered them. George, with the large brown mustache and bright blue eyes, he looked much sterner than Booker could ever remember. Then there was Margret, long brown braid tied tightly behind her head, her doe eyes narrowed at Booker when she caught the sight of him. If he hadn’t known what the occasion was for the visit, the look she gave him would have thrown him.

“Mr. DeWitt,” nodded George. Margret settled on a nod, which was fine by Booker as he did much the same. “We’ve a matter we would much like to speak with you about. May we come in?” He gestured them inside, wordlessly and they followed.

“We heard you were doing well for yourself,” commented Margret as she took his home in. It was certainly an improvement from where he and Annabelle had started.

“Who told you that,” he asked with more than an undertone of venom.

“Just around,” she bit back. “We’ve been hearing quite a lot about you.”

“I’m almost flattered Moorley would take an interest,” he snorted. “But you and I both know you’re not here for me. What do you want with Anna?”

“How did you know that,” George asked shocked by how much Booker already knew. The siblings looked at each other, that silent conversation going on between them.

“No matter,” hissed Margret. “Is it true? Did you really claim Sam’s child as your own? Is that kid really yours?”

“Whatever Sam told you,” breathed Booker, hoping to remain calm. So much was riding on him keeping his composure, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. “It’s a lie, plain and simple. She’s Belle’s daughter and mine. There was no affair going on.”

“Now wait just a minute,” George wagged his finger and stepped forward. He seemed to instantly regret it, seeing as Booker took the challenge and stood at his full height, he seemed larger this way, like he was a giant and going to crush George in one blow. “We have no reason to suspect that Sam would lie to us, and so-.”

“And no reason to believe that I would either,” Booker spat back. It was finally out there, Booker being so damn tired of being treated like a criminal because his wife died. When no one wanted anything to do with him after, they could have cared less if he’d drowned that baby in the bathtub. But now Moorley was involved and they would not be happy until they found a way to destroy Booker DeWitt from the inside out.

“Daddy?” A little voice caused Booker to curse under his breath. It was Anna standing in the doorway, her favorite bear tucked under her arm, wiping the sleep out of her eyes as she had just awoken from her afternoon nap. He reasoned she had probably heard the commotion downstairs and decided to investigate, which made him curse again. “Who are these people?”

Margret stifled a cry when she saw the young child. It was as though she had seen a ghost as the mirror image of her cousin and friend had appeared. Even George found it difficult to look away, but as they studied the young girl they both noticed the problem – she didn’t look like either man who claimed to be her father.

Booker crossed the room and took her hand for her to meet them; it was bound to happen eventually. “They’re your mother’s cousins,” he told her as she looked them up and down while they did much the same. Anna beamed at them, finally meeting someone from her mother’s side of the family, as her knowledge of her mother was minimal.

Her grin was soon shot down, however, by Margret’s glare at the young girl. To the older woman, Anna was the reason her best friend was no longer alive. The little girl gripped her father’s pant-leg and hid behind him, they did not seem friendly at all. Was her mother anything like this? Was she as glaring, as judging as the man and woman before her? This was exactly why Booker didn’t want Anna to see them, he knew the subject of her mother’s death would come up, and he didn’t want Anna blaming herself the way he did for the past five years.

“Oh,” she said sadly. Her eyes fell to the floor and with a frown she added, “Dorothy said we were going to go to the park today. You said when you felt all better you would come with us.”

“You’re right I did,” he nodded and knelt down. “And I still will, but I have to speak with them right now. I’ll meet you ladies there. Alright?”

“Okay daddy,” she gave him a small smile.

“Dorothy,” Margret asked incredulously. “Well I suppose it wouldn’t take you very long to replace the woman who gave you the rest of her life!”

“She’s Anna’s nanny,” Booker corrected her. “She’s also Sam’s sister-in-law.”

“Yes and Sam was more than happy to tell us of your relationship!”

“Well Sam is nothing more than a liar,” barked a voice from the doorway. Dorothy hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the disheartened look in her ward’s large eyes sent Dorothy marching in to give those two a piece of her mind. “My brother-in-law has been trying to hatch a nefarious plan to dispose of Mr. DeWitt and take Anna for himself and here you two stand, so stupidly and believe him though you’ve no ideas for yourself. Also, though we are in no such relationship, I don’t see how any of that is any of your business. You certainly haven’t shown your concern towards the girl until this moment.”

Booker was surprised by the woman’s sudden appearance and more so with the way she jumped to his aid. He supposed after all those years, he shouldn’t have been. It felt good to have someone on his side, he didn’t feel so much like he was being backed into a corner. Anna skittered to her rescuer and enveloped her in her small arms. Dorothy was more than happy to return the favor, kneeling down to the girls level and swiping her up in one swift motion.

“Nonsense,” Margret stuck her nose in the air. “Why would Sam want a child that killed her own mother? Why just look at her! The way she runs to you, it would be no wonder if she thought you were somehow that little brats mother! ”

Booker was certain he would have beaten the woman black and blue if Dorothy hadn’t defeated him to it. Never before had he seen her move at such speed or with such intent as she did when she flew across the room to smack Margret senseless. One loud smack filled the momentary silence, then another, then one more just for good measure.

Never in Booker’s life had he been so inappropriately turned on.

He would have joined her, just for principle, but instead he let Dorothy continue until George tried to intercept. Finally he grabbed his nanny by the shoulders and lifted her off the offended female who was trying to cover her face from Dorothy’s assault.

“I seen now why Sam came to us,” Margret smoothed her dress as George berated them.

“Sam came to you because he knew you two would be so stupid as to fall for his lie,” screamed Dorothy as Booker struggled to restrain her. He turned his attention on the little girl who was sniffling in the corner crying in guilt over what Margret had said. It broke his heart, the way she hung her head in shame with her arms wrapped around herself in a much needed hug. Some stranger had come into their home claiming to be her family who wanted nothing to do with her because she was a killer.

“Get Anna out of here,” he instructed her softly. The situation had long since gotten out of control, and he needed to defuse it before it really hurt his daughter, assuming it hadn’t already. Dorothy glanced back at him hard, until she noticed what he had seen. Finally relaxing enough to stand on her own two feet, Dorothy nodded. They would continue on to the park, just like they had originally planned and wait for Booker to meet them there.

She approached Anna carefully, kneeling down again and instructing the girl to get her coat and hat while Dorothy grabbed her boots. She tried to smile at the little girl, but Anna was not fooled, they were both still troubled by the words thrown about.

“Mr. DeWitt,” warned Margret as she had finally straightened herself out. “Be assured I will see her with her proper father. And the day we see you hang for all of your crimes would be a blessing on us all. As for that little thing, she would be better if she stayed with her real family.” She held out her hand expectantly for Anna to take it and follow her.

“Ms. Parker,” the words came out dangerously low as he stalked forward. George put his self out front so Booker would have had to go through him first. As impulsive as he thought his sister was being, he knew the kind of things Booker was capable of, and didn’t want Margret to get hurt. “Anna is with her proper father, her real father, and her only family.”

“Annabelle was like a sister to me,” said Margret tightly. “This is the only thing like of her now, damn you DeWitt, you hand that child over to me!”

“No,” piped in the little girl. She threw her mittens down with her coat and charged the older woman. “No I don’t wanna go with you! You are a monster and a big jerk and I hate you! And so is Sam! I’m not leaving my daddy! Now go away!”

Margret tried to get a hold of the little girl, prompting Booker into action. He threw a right hook into George’s face, blood sprayed from the mustachioed man as Booker pushed him out of the way. Margret hadn’t gotten very far in her attempt before Anna managed to gain her freedom again.

“LET GO!” Her little leg outstretched and connected with Margret’s shin. Margret shouted in pain, ready to send a spank Anna’s way. That is, until she noticed the towering form of Booker DeWitt looming over her. He reached down and snatched her by the back of her braid, pulling until she was upright on her feet.

He held her so they were face to face. Margret had finally seen the terrifying look in his eyes that her cousin had told her about many years ago. It was the one that he had never shown his wife in any anger directed at her. It was when he was readying himself to end the life of anyone who had threatened his wife, or in this case, his daughter. He didn’t speak, though no words were needed. It was a very clear message ‘touch my kid, I’ll kill you horribly.’

When he released her, George and Margret looked like two dogs licking their wounds. Without anything further to say he turned to leave with Anna in his arms, seeing that Dorothy had been waiting for Anna and most likely had spotted the altercation. She put a hand on his shoulder, while she pretended like she was about to be a voice of reason on the outside, inside she seethed with rage. She only hoped she wouldn’t have to wait very long until she saw Sam again. She was going to give him something to remember when she got her hands on him.

Booker could see exactly what she was thinking. “Let’s get out of here,” he evened out. Anna still sniffled miserably at the day. The time at the park would surely not be a very enjoyable one. He helped his daughter into her coat and boots. He heard the door slam as Margret and George left, no doubt to spread more rumors.

They left without a further word but Booker could see Dorothy fuming out of the corner of his eye. Her jaw tightened, her eyes stared narrowly forward, and her once quick steps had turned to large stamps in the snow. Though he couldn’t prove he, he almost thought he heard grumbling under her breath as they reached the park. He hated himself for it, but he liked how she looked when she was angry. The darkened look in her once bright gray eyes, the way her lips trembled every so often or she bit her bottom lip to stop herself from saying something she'd later regret, the way her hair had tumbled messily from her bun after she had assaulted Margret. It was certainly the worst time to think such thoughts about his nanny and he reasoned it to be that he'd always had a soft spot for fiery women, but even so, he had no right to think about his friend in such a way.

Anna saw a couple of her friends playing merrily. Another snowball fight, as it always was, and they waved her over. She stopped, thinking of what Margret had revealed to her – she had killed her own mother. As she grew, all she ever knew was that her mother was in heaven but never knew why or how. Booker always told her that he’d tell her when she was much older, and Anna had always accepted that answer. But now she began to wonder if maybe she’d hurt her friends too, like the way she’d hurt her mother.

“What’s wrong,” her father squeezed her smaller hand to get her attention. Few drunken nights, she remembered her father sitting at the table with his head in his hands, apologizing for the things he’d done years before. Anna had tried to make sense of it, but Dorothy told her to leave it alone, and Booker refused to speak of it.

“Did I really make mommy die,” asked Anna. Her bottom lip pouted sadly, and her breath hitched again as fresh tears began to fall. Booker froze in his tracks and spun to face his daughter. He knelt down to her eye level and wiped the tears away.

“No Anna,” he shook his head firmly. He ran his fingers through her hair to push the strands out of her face to look at familiar blue eyes. “No, don’t ever blame yourself for what happened to your mother.”

“But daddy,” sniffled Anna as she threw herself into his arms. “Why did mommy’s family say those mean things?” Booker didn’t know what to say, what could he tell his five-year-old daughter that she would understand? That something was trying to kidnap her? That they wanted to sell her to someone else just to get back at him for getting Annabelle pregnant?

“Because they wanted to hurt you,” said Dorothy thankfully before Booker had to attempt an answer. “Those people will not be happy until they have the satisfaction of knowing they can hurt your father.”

“Why?”

“Because your mother is gone and they need someone to blame to make themselves feel better. But the truth is that there is no one to blame for what happened. Some women are not strong enough for birthing a child, but they cannot know it until it is too late. You’re no more to blame for your mother’s death than the rivers or the lightning. They’re uncontrollable.”

“So her family are just a bunch of assholes,” asked Anna. Booker almost lost his composer instantly.

“Anna!” He fought the urge to laugh. Even Dorothy had to turn away to hide the smile on her face. Never before had they heard the girl use such language. They both knew who was entirely to blame, and that was Booker.

“Did I say something wrong,” her innocents only made things harder. She had no idea she was using profanity, only that her father used the word when he had to deal with people he didn’t much care for.

“Well, can’t say I disagree with you -.”

“BOOKER!” Dorothy finally let a small laugh escape. “Those sorts of words are best saved for grownups.”

“It’s a bad word?” Anna’s hands flew to her behind, afraid that she was going to get the paddle again.

“That’s alright dear,” assured Dorothy. “Just don’t use it again from now on. It’s a very unladylike thing to say anyway. Now why don’t you go and play with your friends. Your father and I need to talk.”

Anna looked to Booker who agreed and sent her off. Once she was out of earshot, Booker finally let out a laugh he’d been holding in. Dorothy tried to remain serious, but even she couldn’t contain herself any longer.

“You’re terrible,” she sat at the nearest bench still tittering quietly. “She would have never have heard that word if you would have been more careful.”

“You have to admit,” he joined her with a smirk. “It was a pretty good way to describe their family.”

“Was your wife anything like them?”

“No,” he shook his head. He watched Anna for a while, the smile returned on her face, but it was still missing the shine that it once had. Booker sighed, hoping the damage was not permanent, he’d hate to see her become one step closer to being like him. “No she was different. Although, Margret and George weren’t always this way either. They used to be descent people.”

“I find I have a hard time believing it,” Dorothy folded her arms and tisked loudly. She desperately missed the sound of Anna’s squealing laughter she’d heard a week ago. “Do you think Anna will ever be the same?”

He shrugged but didn’t answer out loud. Dorothy knew what that meant - there was no way. “Gotta say, I was impressed with the way you handled Margret.”

“Yes I suppose I did act a bit rash,” she smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have displayed such behavior in front of Anna.”

“Don’t be, I was about to do the same thing. I would’ve killed her right in front of Anna.”

“If you hadn’t pried me away I can’t promise that I wouldn’t have. She had no right to talk to Anna that way – as if she were some monster. She’s been in Anna’s life for all of twenty minutes – the last remnant of her so called ‘best-friend’ – and this is the impression she wants to leave on that little girl of her own family. Frankly, if you ask me, I’d rather you be jobless and in debt and you’d still be twice the family they ever will be.”

“If Annabelle hadn’t died…”

“Booker, you can no more control her death than you could if Anna were suddenly to take ill,” she set her face firmly. “While it is true that you were the man who impregnated her you did not do it with the intention of killing her. In fact, I would think you were trying to do quite the opposite and create a life with her. It was out of your control, while that may seem strange to you, there are some things you cannot stop.”

“If you say so,” he said flatly. She frowned at him, knowing he was going to start self-destructing when they went home. It would be another bottle of whiskey and a shut in, in his room while any attempt to speak with him would result in arguing and Anna moping in her room as she listened to them shout at one-another.

They watched as Anna stopped running, she suddenly didn’t feel like playing anymore. Booker and Dorothy spun around to the entrance of the park to see what she was looking at. It was Dorothy’s mother, Lily Small, who had been looking for Dorothy frantically. Anna bolted to Lily like a shot. The old woman had become like a surrogate grandmother to Anna, and Anna had been the closest thing Lily currently had to a granddaughter. Lily had taken it upon herself to dote on the little girl, buying her chocolates, toys, and dresses. Dorothy had been a little worried that Booker wouldn’t appreciate it, but as long as Anna was happy, then so too was Booker.

Lily happily embraced the child and asked where she could find her daughter. Anna pointed at the bench Booker and Dorothy had been sitting on and speaking. As she approached them, they stood to great the woman. “Mother,” Dorothy hugged her mother briefly. She did not fail to notice the troubled look on her face nor the glare she’d given Booker. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

In an instant, she swiped both girls behind her back and stood on her toes to look into Booker’s eyes. He didn’t so much as flinch at Lily’s hardened glare, but he had to admit he was curious about what this was over. “You,” she snarled. “Who do you think you are? My daughter has provided five years of loyal service to you! How dare you think that just because you’re some revered detective that you are above the law, and then to hear that you forced yourself on my daughter! How dare you?!”  
“What?” Booker and Dorothy exclaimed at the same time.

“Mother where did you hear such accusations?”

“Moorley, I’ll bet.”

“You leave my son-in-law out of this you brute! It is only so fortunate that one daughter made her life easy with a good man. I had thought better of your decisions Dorothy!”

“But if that is indeed Sam who has said such, he is a liar,” cried Dorothy. “Mother this is not the first time, he has been spreading rumors about Booker for so long. I knew it was only a matter of time before he came to you. I should have told you the truth five years ago and yet I was afraid of how you would react.”

“The truth of what?”

“Sam is going to kidnap Anna!”


	18. Chapter 18

They explained from the beginning, starting with Booker's wife and how Sam was seeking revenged on Booker for 'taking his girl.' Lily found the information hard to take in. A man of many reputations to be sure, but kidnapper? She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. She repeated the action a few times, to the three who waited for whatever she had to say, she looked like a carp gasping the air. But inside she was struggling with the idea that her son-in-law might have been trying to steal a man's little girl. And what of Maria? How much of Sam's plan was she involved? Lily knew that Maria struggled after the loss of their child – though Lily began to wonder about her daughter's pregnancy as there had been no signs of her with child and she always complained that she had spent next to no time with her husband. She never mentioned a doctor either the more Lily thought about it. Could her so called 'miscarriage' have had more to do with a failed attempt at kidnapping? Lily felt a sense of dread wash over her, if Maria was involved then there was no doubt that Booker would eliminate her if the cause should arise – which didn't seem as though it would not.

“Oh my,” Lily began shaking. “You must forgive me but this is so much to take in. I feel as though I might faint.” Her knees buckled under her and never had she been so appreciative of Booker when he reached and caught her before she fell onto the cold ground. 

“Easy, easy,” he steadied her on her feet until he was sure she could stand on her own. She thanked him sheepishly before she took a seat on the bench Dorothy and Booker had been seated in previously.

“Mother,” Dorothy clasped her mother's hands in her own. “Put yourself in Mr. DeWitt's position. If it had been Mr. Hanson after one of your daughters, would you have stood for this?”

“Never,” shrieked her mother. “I would have thrown him over the bridge mysel-.” With a gasp the realization finally struck her – he would do what he had to do. Not because he wanted to, but because above anything else in the world, his child came first. “I... I see,” she resigned her daughter to her fate. 

“Mrs. Small,” Anna finally piped up. “I don't want to go away, I like it here with my daddy.”

“Yes,” Lily smiled sadly. “I suppose you would. Mr. DeWitt, you must understand – just as Anna is your daughter, Maria is also mine. I would destroy me to hear that she has met her end at your hand.”

Booker said nothing, just nodded. He knew she was just a mother looking out for her child, and for the most part, he didn't want to be involved in the drama of Dorothy's family, and so he had no plans to seek her out. Dorothy had told him before that Maria was only involved for the sake of her husband. Once Sam was out of the way, Booker had figured that Maria would lose interest and therefore Maria was not his concern. 

“Is there no way to convince your sister, Dorothy?”

“I've tried mother,” answered Dorothy sadly. “I've tried but she insists she must take Anna for Sam's sake. She knows the weight of what will happen should Booker find Anna missing, but she and Sam keep going.” 

Lily sagged noticeably, and with a long sigh, there was nothing more she could do to convince Booker that Maria would be innocent in all this. “What other rumors have been circulating?”

“He's been claiming I'm not Anna's father,” answered Booker.

“To whom?”

“My ex-wife's family,” he rubbed the bridge of their nose. “They buy into it for some reason.”

“No doubt for the same reason they said all those horrible things,” huffed Dorothy. 

Anna hugged herself, “I don't like them.”

“Me either,” agreed Booker. “But they aint going to stop until Sam has her.”

“They would trust Sam over you?” Lily shook her head. “Even after he was unfaithful to his intended?”

“Some of Annabelle's family never took too kindly to me coming around,” shrugged Booker. Especially her mother, the day her daughter announced their engagement, she shouted and hissed and gnashed her teeth at the news. But Annabelle never backed down, she married him anyway. Her mother wagged her finger at Booker, threatening that he'd get his one day. She didn't dare speak to him at the funeral and that was alright by him, he had nothing to say to the woman. “They wanted her to wind up with Sam so he could provide for her.”

“I suppose I can understand that.”

“I surely cannot,” Dorothy folded her arms. “But if those people we ran into today are any indication-.”

But Booker knew better. He knew that many years ago, George and Margret were actually all for their marriage. They had established alibis for the young lovers who were meeting in secret. They had encouraged Annabelle to see Booker instead of thinking about that pig-headed Sam. If she hadn't died, he would have imagined they would have been a good friend to their family. 

He decided against commenting on it and instead settled for silence. Anna indicated to her father that she wanted to be picked up. He did as she asked, she rested her head on his shoulder. “We're not meant to be apart this time, Elizabeth told me so,” she whispered to him. Booker shot a look in her direction. 

Elizabeth?

“What?” He murmured back. Dorothy and Lily were lost in their own conversation, a perfect time for Booker to understand what she was talking about. “Who's Elizabeth?”

“You know her daddy, she told me she knew you.” 

Of course he knew her. He'd traveled to and destroyed a city single-handedly with her. He had protected her when everyone else sought to put her back into her tower so that Comstock could train her to obey. And more importantly, she was his Anna. His mistake, Elizabeth was the warning of what could happen if he screwed this up again. 

He wondered if she had told Anna anything else but refrained from asking. It'd be just his luck that Dorothy and Lily would have long ended their conversation and listen to Booker and Anna, he didn't want to imagine that amount of explaining he'd have to do to convince both women that he wasn't crazy and that Columbia had happened before. That he had been the one to bring the whole damn thing to shreds, though it sounded impossible as he still had at least fifteen years before he would have even ventured to Columbia. Assuming he would have to venture to Columbia in the first place as by this time he was a depressed, wrecked, shell of a man with hardly any reason to be alive. 

“Daddy,” Anna's voice snapped him back to attention. “Your nose is bleeding!”

He lifted two fingers to his nose, and sure enough blood had been running down. “Damn,” he muttered and set Anna on the ground so he could wipe the rest away. 

“Booker,” chided Dorothy with a napkin at the ready. “Take this. You're going to have blood on your hands all day!” He had half a mind to shoot back a remark about blood on his hands, the other half was still preoccupied with trying to get his memories in order. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” he said sourly. Dorothy knew that meant he wasn't, but as usual, he certainly wasn't going to bring up the issue. She swatted his hand away when he tried to get her out of his face. Finally after multiple attempts he simply let her help him. Lily watched the two with a shake of her head. While it may have only been a rumor that Booker and Dorothy were having relations, she certainly hoped it would one day be true. It was not exactly an ideal match, she knew well of Booker's reputation of his temper, his drinking, and his gambling. But she also knew he would protect her with everything he had, just the same as he did with his little girl. 

“Mr. DeWitt,” Lily stood and approached the man. The hard look on her face from when she had first found him had returned but he was so lucky to find her anger not directed towards his self. “I want to apologize for my behavior. I do not understand Maria's obsession with helping Sam to take your Anna. But I promise you this, I will do everything in my power to see that you have a formidable ally on your side when the time comes to take on the Parker family as well as my son-in-law.”

Booker had to admit, he was surprised to hear her say that. Even Dorothy did not expect to hear her mother admit her shortcomings and more so that she had planned on making up for her wrong doings by supporting Booker. It certainly helped, having a few more on his side, as it seemed half of the people Booker knew were looking for his head on a pike. 

“I should leave for home soon,” coughed Lily. “In my old days, I cannot enjoy the winter as I used to. Dorothy, won't you walk me home?”

“Oh, I-,” Booker nodded that he didn't much need her at the moment. “Of course mother.”

“Thank you dear,” she held out her arm for her daughter to take. “Mr. DeWitt, let me once more extend my apologies. When I see Maria and Sam I'll give them a good thrashing for the rumors.”

“Send them an extra one from me,” he quipped back humorlessly.

“And Anna dear, I expect to see you at my house soon. I believe I had a new dress just waiting for you.”

Anna smiled politely and asked her father if she could stop over soon. He nodded and soon the four had departed in their two separate groups. Father and daughter, and mother and daughter had gone their separate ways. 

“There is something I wanted to talk to you about Dorothy,” her mother finally spoke again once they were out of earshot of Booker and Anna. She glanced back at them, glad to see they looked like they were occupied with some other conversation, every so often prompting a troubled look on Booker's face. “Darling, you're twenty three now, haven't you give any thought to marriage by now.” 

Well it was only bound to happen eventually, Dorothy had expected the subject to be dropped from the weight of everything else. “Oh mother there is no time to think of such a silly thing as marriage. I work constantly with Anna, and Booker only just recovered from his fever so he'll be returning to work soon as well.”

“It is not a silly thing,” Lily was offended and for that Dorothy apologized. “I worry that you may be missing an opportunity to feel something as wonderful as love.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mr. DeWitt, darling.” Concluded Lily. Dorothy stopped in her tracks, now she was really confused. A minute ago her mother looked as though she were going to fight Booker, and now she wanted her daughter to consider him. “Before you get all defensive just listen.”

“I suppose I really have no other choice.”

“Dorothy, since I have heard of this young man, your relationship has only grow stronger. Despite your complaints about him you are always the first to his side should the need arise.”

“For Anna-.”

“And what about that display in the park? You two sitting next to each other, I think that was the first time I've seen Mr. DeWitt so much as smile. When his nose began bleeding you were fussing over him. Perhaps this would be a smart match. He's an able provider, he's protective, and he's not a terrible looking man.”

“But his wife-”

“Almost six years ago Dorothy,” now Lily had placed her free hand on her hip. “Perhaps it is his loneliness that is what stops him from moving on, and don't tell me you haven't thought about it before! Those blushing cheeks tell me everything!”

Dorothy immediately brought her hands up to her cheeks as if some vain attempt to hide her blush, but the damage was already done. It was true, she had more than once wondered what it was like to be Mrs. DeWitt if only for such a short time. He spoke so rarely her, it was easy to forget she had once existed. She had seen his awkward attempts at romance (understanding why he stuck to a surly attitude, she thought with an inner chuckle) and wondered if that was the man Annabelle DeWitt had fallen in love with.

The worst was when she thought about him on nights she felt lonely. Nights were she wondered what it would be like to be in Booker's arms as she lay with her body pressed against his. Her mother had always warned her that stirrings were possible for no real explainable reason and if Dorothy even began to explain to her mother what she was feeling, she had no doubt Lily would send her to the mental ward to have her head looked at. There were days, back when Booker was bed-ridden, that she would go into his room and find him still asleep and an aching need told her to lay with him a short while. She ignored the feelings, knowing that Anna could have walked in at any moment, and quickly left with a curse. 

“Any feeling I may have for Booker, is simply because he is the only man I've been working around for such a long time.”

“You worked for Mr. Hanson for 'such a long time'. Did he give you such feelings?”

“Ugh, no!”

“Good!” 

They had arrived at Lily's home, Dorothy bit the inside of her lip as she saw her mother had guests. It was Sam and Maria, waiting patiently or their mother to arrive. Dorothy wrenched her arm free from her mother's grasp and stalked forward. Sam was going to get a piece of her mind today if it were the last thing she ever did.

“Dorothy,” greeted Sam with false cheer. “How nice to see you!” She didn't stop, she continued until she was toe to toe with the man. Not feeling quite satisfied from the way she battered Margret Parker, she took a swing at Sam as well. The sound of slapping broke through the quite street. Maria gasped loudly before stepping between the two.

“Get out of my way Maria, or I shall hit you next,” cried Dorothy. “Who do you think you are? You are the devil, do you hear me? The devil! You worthless, stupid, evil, whore-son!” 

“Sister I have no idea where the hysteria is coming from,” Maria tried to soothe her sister, but it was no use. Dorothy felt her anger wash up tenfold, she backhanded Maria, causing their mother to cry from shock. 

“You are a monster to send that family after Anna and Booker the way you did and then to spread those nasty rumors! I have half a mind to drag you back to Booker and let him take care of you once and for all!”

“I can assure you,” Sam rubbed the offending spot on his cheek where she had slapped him. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“LIAR!” She reached again but Sam caught her wrist and squeezed painfully. She yelped from the pain but Sam didn't let go until Lily approached them.

“Enough,” the old woman boomed. “Sam you let her go right now. And then you two may turn tail and go the way you came. I have nothing to say to either of you.”

“Mother-.”

“You lied to me Maria! To me, your own mother! You told me that Dorothy was being abused by her employer only to hear of some plot to kidnap his daughter! You tell Anna's family that she is not Mr. DeWitt's child, only to scar her for life by having those wicked people say such horrible things to her. You dare come after the reputation of your sister? How can you look me in the eye and justify your action?”

“Mother, I-,” she glared at her younger sister with tears in her eyes. It was all out in the open now, Dorothy had finally separated the family so that she could protect the man she worked for. “Is this what you wanted Dorothy? To have mother on your side so you tell her such awful things?”

“I didn't start this,” answered Dorothy icily. “I told you I would take no part in Anna's kidnap, which is just revenge for some woman who died years ago that Sam felt he was entitled to-.” 

“She was my fiance,” shouted Sam.

“But she was Booker's wife!” Defended Dorothy. “I've warned you multiple times that this needs to be dropped before someone gets hurt, but you'd rather risk your life and your wife just to make a point.” 

“Stop it both of you,” Lily once more ended the argument. “Sam and Maria, I love you both with all of my heart, but I cannot accept your dishonesty. Until you can be completely honest with me, and not attempt something as evil as abducting an innocent child, I cannot accept you into my home.”

Maria cried for the loss of her mother but Lily, though it pained her heart endlessly, did not relent. There were many things that Lily as a mother could tolerate in her daughters, but kidnap was not one of them. Especially when she knew that, though her youngest would not admit it, Dorothy was in love with the man whose daughter was being called into question. Lily sighed as she opened the door to her home, she loved her daughters dearly, but right now she wanted to shut them out for a while.

She went inside, slamming the door behind her and leaving Dorothy, Maria, and Sam standing stupidly outside. Maria and Sam sneered at Dorothy, wanting nothing more than to tear her apart piece by piece. Dorothy said nothing though she wanted to apologize for the damage she had caused, but the more she thought about it, the more it occurred to her that it was not her fault. If Maria had only listened, if she had understood what was at stake. But she didn't, she didn't care that she had just lost her mother, she didn't care that five years ago she had lost her only sister. All she wanted was Anna because all Sam wanted was Anna. 

Dorothy left them without a word, though she heard her sister calling her awful names. Amongst them, 'monster' was the kindest she had heard. She needed to go home, she needed to see her friend if only to justify her action. She wasn't paying attention to where she was going as she wiped her downcast eyes furiously, but in her brisk pace didn't notice the man who was walking a brisk pace in the opposite direction. 

She crashed into him with a loud 'oof' and nearly tripped over her own feet.

“Oh dear,” he steadied her on her feet. He was a handsome man, by all the standards; tall, fair skinned, blue eyes, and dark hair. His hands were soft as he kept her in place. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine,” she sniffled and wiped again. Her tone reminded her of Booker, the curt answer even though things were clear that she was not alright. The man raised a questioning eyebrow, he was obviously not stupid. She brushed herself off and cleared her throat. “I apologize for my temper, all I mean is that I'm alright, I was just not paying attention to where I was going.” 

“It's dangerous to walk about New York like that,” the man chided in a friendly voice. Dorothy snorted, with the way she felt, danger was the last thing on her mind. She simply shrugged ruefully and smiled. “If you're so determined not to use those eyes, may I offer you mine and walk you to your home?” 

Dorothy bit the inside of her lip as she thought about the conversation with her mother. Would Booker have really appreciated if she had lead a stranger to his home? Would he had noticed one way or another? Then again, if his intentions were entirely gentlemanly, what would the harm be? She nodded and thanked him as she laced her arm through his.

The more they continued down the street, the more Dorothy grew to appreciate the man. His name was Oscar, he was a banker not too far from where her mother lived. She nearly squealed with glee to hear that his father had worked at her father's steel mill, he spoke fondly of her father having met him a few times. They laughed at his quick wit and her sharp tongue. Finally as they reached her house, Dorothy felt a bit saddened to leave his company so quickly. Almost amazed at just how quickly she had forgotten all about her mother, her sister, and Booker for the moment.

“This is it,” she said with a heavy sigh.

“Well, thank you for allowing me to accompany you tonight,” Oscar smiled as they stood outside the quiet house. “I hope you would not find me too bold to insist that you allow me to see you again.” 

“I-.” She wanted to, she desperately wanted to. Though she valued her friendship with Booker, her feelings for him could only have been brought on from her exposure to him. But Oscar was so charming, he had made her laugh and forget her problems temporarily. “I would love to.” 

“Until then,” he kissed her knuckles and left. Dorothy watched him from the porch with a dreamy sigh, though she never mind letting her sister find love while she found work, it was something she longed for. Love, affection, something a little more than nods of appreciation and grunts of approval that she received from Booker. 

“What was all that about,” said a low voice behind her in amusement. She jumped and gasped, not expecting him to be waiting for her, even more peculiar was the half smirk he had on his face as he waited or an explanation. 

“I saw Sam and Maria today,” she admitted smoothing out her dress. “I've never seen mother so distraught before. And before you ask – yes I gave Sam a piece of my mind and hand as well as my sister. If he hadn't stopped me, I think I would still be assaulting him if he hadn't grabbed my wrist so tightly.” She lifted her sleeve where a bruise had begun to form in the shape of a large hand. Booker's smirk was quickly wiped away as he examined her wrist. 

“That son of a bitch,” he muttered. “You alright? He didn't swing at you did he?”

“No,” she assured him, tugging her wrist back. “Mother stopped it before things could have escalated to much worse.” Dorothy was unused to Booker showing such concern towards anything that wasn't his daughter, it certainly was not she had been thinking a moment ago. “Any way, I was walking home and I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and I ran into Oscar and he offered to walk me the rest of the way.”

“I see,” Booker looked in the direction Oscar had been traveling. “It looked like he offered a little more than just a walk.”

Dorothy harrumphed and folded her arms, “I'm an adult Mr. DeWitt, and I don't see how that's any of your business.”

“When you bring him to my house it is my business,” corrected Booker but the smirk on his face returned as he raised both hands defensively. “I don't give a damn what interest you have in him, I was just wondering.”

“Oh I see,” her arms were still folded but it was her turn to be amused. “You're jealous!”

“Jealous?”

“Yes, you're jealous because I'm interested in someone.”

“Why the hell would I be jealous? If you're interested in that, then be my guest. Just don't let it interfere with Anna.” He shrugged indifferently. He lead her inside and closed the door behind them.

“Oh for crying out loud,” she threw her hands up in the air angrily. “You always think I'm going to do something harmful to Anna. Either I'm going to leave her out in the open for someone to snatch, or I'm going to look away and she's going to drown or something. In five years, can you not trust me?”

“That's not what I meant,” sighed Booker. “Look just forget it.”

“No!” She shouted. “No I will not! You've been doing this for five years! Do you really think I'm going to give her away?” 

“That has nothing to do with-.”

“It's because of Norman isn't it? You think I'm going to let Anna end up like him!”

“Jesus woman are you always this paranoid?”

“Do you think Oscar is somehow involved with Sam?”

Booker said nothing which was more than enough of an answer for Dorothy. “And you called me paranoid!”

“Look let's just drop it,” Booker pinched the bridge of his nose, he really didn't want to have this conversation. “It's just been a rough day. I don't want to make it any worse for Anna.” 

Dorothy agreed, stomping up the stairs to her room. How dare Booker try to convince her that a nice man like Oscar was evil? He was the only one who brightened her day and now Booker was trying to ruin her image of him. She didn't bother saying goodnight to Anna who was peaking around her door to see the commotion.


	19. Chapter 19

No matter how many shots Booker had taken that night, he couldn’t get his conversation with Anna out of his head at the park. She had seemed so unfazed by the whole thing, did she really have no idea who Elizabeth was? And why did she turn to Anna and not him? He would have understood who she was more than Anna would have. He still remembered, some nights he still had nightmares about that goddamned bird nearly clawing his eyes out.

“Anna I want to talk to you about this Elizabeth,” he plopped her onto the bench next to him. After Dorothy and Lily were out of earshot, he knew he needed to find out the rest of his daughter's 'friend' was really the Elizabeth he had known, and protected with his life. Even going so far as to die for her so that Comstock would never be able to get his hands on her. “Who is she?”

“She's my friend,” answer Anna with a shrug. “She's lives pretty far away. But she told me that she knew you but not me all that well – she looks sad when she says that.” 

“How did you meet her?”

“I’ve known her for a long time but the last time I saw her was just before you got sick” Anna thought about it for a moment before she played with her black curls the way Elizabeth used to before she cut off her hair. “She said she saw you running after someone and that she hadn't meant to distract you from that man you were chasing. Daddy, you're supposed to pay attention to where you're going! It's no wonder you got sick!”

“Has she said anything to you? Why is she here?” Booker wasn't trying to push his daughter so hard but the fact that Elizabeth was not yet done with him made him uncomfortable. 

“When I asked her, she said she was 'just checking up on us.' She knew that some mean person was trying to take me away and she didn't like him! She said if he did he was going to try and take me all the way to the sky! And she told me that you were her only friend who saved her from a large bird who isn't very nice. And she seemed happy when I told her we were going to the park.” 

Checking up on them? Was Elizabeth so worried that he was going to mess everything up again? He didn't say anything else, just nodded as they began their journey home. He had a lot to think about, and trying to take everything in at once was beginning to make his head hurt.

Even if he did lose Anna to Sam, he concluded that it wasn't going to be in the current world he was living in. He should have considered himself lucky – he would be able to protect her from Sam. 'There's always a lighthouse, always a man, and always a city.' He would have done well to never see any lighthouse ever again. Anna slept peacefully in her room, he made sure of it before he left since the woman he had been paying to do so went to bed early in a huff. 

Dorothy - there was a new set of problems. While Booker wouldn't have said he was in love with her, but he couldn't deny that he felt something that he hadn't felt in a long time. He was jealous of Oscar, he just didn't have the pride to tell her otherwise though that wasn't the only reason he didn't like the thought of some stranger coming around his home. Especially while Sam had just as many eyes and ears following him around as Booker did.

He waved for another shot, the old man behind the counter considered it for a moment before pouring another round for him. He took a long swig and set his newly emptied glass down. “Thinking you’ve had enough tonight DeWitt?”

“If it were up to me, you’d just leave that bottle right where I can reach it,” he slurred with a lopsided smirk. “Besides I’ve got a week’s worth of catching up to do.”

“Thomas isn’t going to be happy if you’re in no condition to get back to work tomorrow,” the barkeep tried. “Especially not with me if I allow you to keep going.” 

“I don’t need no babysitter,” Booker’s smirk dropped angrily. But his friend had no interest in leaving him alone. “Fine, one more then I’m out, fair enough?”

“I guess that’ll have to do,” he shrugged and poured one more tumbler. Booker tilted back one more mouthful before handing the old man a wad of bills. “Need help getting home?”

“I can handle it,” Booker answered with a lackadaisical wave on his way out. True to his word he did just that, in the amount of time he had drunk, he had mastered walking home without falling and minimal stumbling. He memorized the walk home so he didn’t have to think very hard on how to get there. 

Following the similar path he had been taking for years, Booker finally arrived home. He hadn’t meant to close the door nearly as hard as he did, afraid it would wake his daughter who would see her father drunk again. “Shit,” he whispered. He snuck further into his home before he heard the creaking floorboards tell him someone was awake. He stopped moving, hoping whoever it was would just go back to bed thinking they were hearing things. Finally movement stopped, Booker had thought it was safe to resume his journey up to his bed for the night. No doubt a sleepless one, but at least a mildly comfortable sleepless one. 

He had gotten to the top of the stairs when he felt the full weight of a person slam him against the wall. He barely had time to catch the glimmer of light in the dark hallway, but he knew he was about to be run through with a kitchen knife. “Jesus, it’s me!” 

“Booker,” breathed Dorothy. “My God, you scared me half to death, I could have killed you! What are you thinking coming home at this hour and causing such a ruckus? I thought we were being invaded you fool!” 

“Didn’t think anyone was awake.”

“So you decided to slam the front door thinking no one would hear that,” she pursed her lips together in an angry glare. Booker had to hand it to her, if he had been a little bit drunker, he probably would have met his end at her hands. She lowered her armed hand and let it hang uselessly at her side. Her left arm, the one that she had used to rush him into the wall, flew to her hip expectantly. She took a step back to observe her friend who smelled like he had been at a bar far longer than he should have. “You’re drunk.” 

He nodded, but didn’t say anything. He was busy noting Dorothy’s nightgown which was certainly more than a little generous with the lace which did nothing to hide her skin. The way certain movements made the sleeves drop and expose her shoulders and hung low on her bosom made Booker suddenly very aware of the heat her skin was giving off. The rational part of his brain had told him it was time for bed and he needed to go there before he did something to jeopardize his friendship with Dorothy. 

The only unfortunate thing about the rational voice in his head was it had been drown out by alcohol and naughty thoughts. Instead he closed the gap between them grabbing her waist in one hand and her hair in the other. Dorothy tried to ask what he was doing but was interrupted by his mouth on hers. She gasped, in the years she had known him, Booker had never been so bold with her before. Though it was far from Dorothy’s first kiss, it was certainly the first one she had received with such force as his fingers curled into her hair painfully. She whined from the tugging, allowing Booker’s tongue access into her mouth. She could taste the whiskey on him, reminding her that he was drunk and probably thought she was his wife again and so she played along with it, just reminding herself to stop him if things got a little too heated. She hesitantly wrapped her arms around him as he backed her into her room and closed the door behind him.

He pushed her back onto her bed, Dorothy felt sick as her nerves bundled in her lower belly. Her head demanded that she stopped this, but her body begged for more. It was everything she had fantasized about him late at night when she was safely alone with her thoughts. His mouth began trailing down her jaw to her neck, a contented sigh escaped her. It wasn’t until his hands began to wander to her breast that Dorothy’s nerves had gotten the better of her. 

“Booker wait,” she stopped him. He stopped and glanced up at her, the dark look in his eyes would have been fearful if Dorothy hadn’t known the context of such darkness. But as dark as his gaze was, he was still a gentleman when she asked him to stop. He waited, though not patiently, for her to speak again. “I’m not her Booker, I’m not your wife. It’s just me, just Dorothy.” 

“I know,” it was a simple response but it left Dorothy speechless. She searched desperately for the words to say. Did that mean that he was expecting something more than professional? Something more than friendship? A thousand questions buzzed in her mind at once but before she could ask them, Booker suckled on the sensitive skin under her ear. She arched with a whimper, was she really going to let this drunk man take her virginity?

“Stop!” She finally cried. Though she had more than once thought about Booker in such a way, she was terrified. “I don’t want to do this! Please stop.”

He parted from her quickly, like he had been burned, and swore under his breath. Dorothy hadn’t moved, but Booker could barely look at her. Sprawled on her bed, her messy blonde hair encircling her head like a halo, her lips were large and swollen from his assault, the way her breast quickly rose and fell from her shallow breathing was too much for Booker’s brain to comprehend. Instead he stared at the floor like a child being scolded.

“I-.” He tried to find something to say to her, but the once remorseful look on his face quickly turned to a scowl and it was directed straight for Dorothy. She grabbed the sheet and covered herself, hoping not to inspire another episode, though she would one day admit that a small part of her enjoyed the attention. They stared at each other a long time, silently. It was as though no words were needed, they could tell what the other one was thinking. 

‘I shouldn’t have done that,’ he told her wordlessly.

‘I’m not so sure you shouldn’t have,’ she replied silently. 

“Why don’t you get to bed Booker,” suggested Dorothy. Certainly a voice of reason in his otherwise muddled brain. “Surely you need to sleep off your drunken state of mind. Just go to sleep.” 

It was true he was tired, exhausted really, but sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. First he was trying to figure out what the hell he was thinking, then there was the throbbing between his legs, and finally what was going to happen to their friendship? Would she want to leave? Would she never speak with him again? Did she like it? 

She hesitantly sat up, then went so far as to stand, though wise enough to know to keep her distance should he become provoked to try again. “It’s alright, I’m not angry at you,” she said evenly. The distance between them told him differently. “I just think you need to sleep and think about what you’re doing. If tomorrow you feel the same for me as you do now, then we can talk about it in the morning. But if you wake up and do not remember your actions, do you really think it would be wise?” 

He shook his head, knowing she was right. The rational part of his brain had told him that, hell it had told him that multiple times but he just stopped listening. Why? Had he really had that much to drink? He wanted to say yes, that was the only reason he had acted so crazy around her, but Booker knew better. It had been so long since he’d been passionate with a woman, or at least one who didn’t frequent the bars, and he was tired of being alone. The fact that he was feelings stirrings for Dorothy certainly didn’t help his case either. 

He wanted to say he was sorry, but somehow the words just sounded flat in his head. The only thing he regretted was that he couldn’t have her that night and that she was so standoffish towards him. Frankly he was more surprised that he had lasted as long as he had before he did something insane. He ran his fingers through his hair before turning around and leaving. He was nearly halfway to his room when Dorothy bid him goodnight. “’Night Dorothy,” he repeated before disappearing behind his door.

What he had failed to notice was a wide-eyed little girl looking between Dorothy’s room and Booker’s. Anna had seen the whole commotion, getting out of bed to peek around her door to make sure no one had snuck into their home with ill intent. Instead she had seen her father kissing her nanny with such force, and Dorothy for her part seemed to enjoy it. She shuffled to her father’s door but stopped just outside. He didn’t look happy when he went inside and Dorothy looked just as grumpy before she slammed the door to her room earlier. She wondered if Booker would have been grumpy if she asked what happened. 

She turned around, wondering if Dorothy was in any better of a mood, she could always speak to the older woman. Taking the safe road, she went back to bed. Booker had promised he’d take her by Lily’s house tomorrow if Dorothy refused to, maybe she would understand the situation a little better.

The next morning had proven a tense one. Neither Booker nor Dorothy had said more than a brief good morning. Anna decided not to comment on either one’s odd behavior, knowing this was better saved for Lily, she seemed wise one these subjects. 

“Anna dear,” said Dorothy as she began collecting breakfast plates. “Finish quickly so we can see my mother today.” Anna didn’t want to admit it but she was looking forward to going with her father and so was a little disappointed when he informed her he needed to return to work. She had so much to talk to her father about as far as her friend Elizabeth was concerned. 

Oh well, it would have to wait. 

Booker finished breakfast and with a quick goodbye to Anna and a nod at Dorothy, he was gone. Nothing was said as far as what time he was to be expected, or if they could count on him being home late – he just left. It had left Anna more confused than when she had been the previous night. She looked out the door after her father, then to her nanny who let out a long sigh.

“Dorothy,” Anna finally chimed. “Is daddy mad at you?”

“I don’t know,” shrugged Dorothy. “I think he’s a little confused and you know how frustrated your father gets.”

“Is it because of Oscar?”

“Oscar?” Dorothy was shocked that Anna even knew about him but reasoned that Booker may have said something. “Your father told you about Oscar, did he?”

“No,” Anna shook her head. “Elizabeth told me about him. She said he wasn’t a very nice guy – despite what you think.”

“Is that so,” Dorothy was offended and made no attempt to hide the fact that she was sore with the little girl’s accusation. “And just who is this Elizabeth?”

“She’s mine and daddy’s friend,” explained Anna. “She knows Songbird! Sometimes she appears in my room and we talk for a little while. She tells me of adventures that she and daddy were going to go on, but now they won’t for some reason. She won’t tell me why.”

“Enough,” scoffed Dorothy. “Go get dressed and we’ll leave for my mother’s soon. That is unless this ‘Elizabeth’ still thinks my mother is good enough.” Her eyes narrowed at the small girl who yelped and scurried to her room. She didn’t dare argue with older woman, knowing if she was unable to see Lily her questions would be left unanswered. They quickly left the house, and Dorothy seemed to relax considerably. Anna had been fine with their silent walk until a voice stopped her nanny.

“Well fancy seeing you so soon,” said a joyful male voice. Anna could not recognize it, but something had told her exactly who that voice belonged to. “And this must be your little ward.”

“Oscar, how nice to see you again,” Dorothy brightened considerably. Anna on the other hand, did not like the look of this man. The time she had spent with Elizabeth the little girl never had a reason to not trust Elizabeth, and she seemed to know things that no one else did. Anna loved Dorothy dearly, as she had told Elizabeth countless times, she didn’t want her friend to get hurt. 

“Are you two busy?”

“We’re just on our way to see my mother,” answered Dorothy. 

“How nice, I’m sure after all the bad business yesterday she would like to see one of her daughters,” he turned his attention to Anna with a large smile. Anna didn’t like it, it reminded her of the story Dorothy had read to her about a cat with a large smile that got a little girl into all sorts of trouble. “You must be Annie.”

“Anna,” correctly the little girl icily. Dorothy shot a nasty glare at the little girl.

“Oh,” chuckled Oscar in amusement. “My mistake, you are Anna. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” He held out his hand waiting to take the young girl. Anna just glared at the man, it was not until Dorothy nudged the girl forward that Anna begrudgingly took his hand. Anna very much wanted her father, he wouldn’t have forced her to shake the man’s hand if she didn’t want to. He probably would have told Oscar to get lost or punched him in the face or something. “Well I should let you two on your own for now. Perhaps we’ll run into each other again later.” 

“I would like that,” Dorothy extended her hand for him to take. 

“Until then,” he planted a kiss on her knuckle before they carried on their separate ways. 

Anna burned a hole into the back of his head. She really didn’t like him, especially if what Elizabeth said was true. She glanced at Dorothy who was watching after the man with dreamy eyes, knowing there was no way she was going to make her nanny believe her. All she could do was hope that Dorothy would see the truth before it was too late.


	20. Chapter 20

Dorothy hadn’t spoken a word to Anna the whole way to her mother’s house. Which was fine, Anna really didn’t have much to say to Dorothy since the awkward exchange with Oscar a mere five minutes before. She knew her nanny was upset with her for acting so much like her father but, much like he would, her spite was out of concern for Dorothy. Elizabeth had been so insisting that something was going to happen, there was no way that Anna was going to be willing to take a chance on losing her friend.

Booker had come in and tucked her in before he left for the bar. Elizabeth had come in shortly after he had left, and sat next to her on her bed. They talked for a long time, first about Anna’s wicked family, then how she had told Booker about Elizabeth’s visits (though Elizabeth didn’t seem too happy about it), and finally she told Elizabeth about Dorothy’s odd behavior. 

“Elizabeth,” asked Anna. “You said you can see a lot of things. Is Do-“

“There’s another man,” answered Elizabeth. Anna twisted her face, it was odd how Elizabeth always knew what Anna was thinking before she was given an opportunity to speak a full sentence. But just as Anna was about to ask her next question, Elizabeth knew ahead of her. “Be careful around him, okay? His name’s Oscar, he’s not a good man, if he comes around I want you to stay around Booker and do not leave his sight.”

“Is he going to take me away?”

“No. He’s going to do much worse,” Anna didn’t like the look on Elizabeth’s face as she answered honestly. It scared the little girl, not knowing what the possible outcome may have been but Elizabeth knew and wasn’t going to tell her. “Just stay with Booker whenever Oscar comes around,” warned Elizabeth again. “We worked so hard for you two to be together.” 

Anna was going to ask what she meant by that when a slamming door had startled them both. 

Lily had been anticipating their visit, as Dorothy had sent a message that morning saying they would be along. She smiled widely at Anna and Dorothy, especially after spending a night alone in her room weeping for the loss of her family. The company was welcoming.

They exchanged pleasantries for a short while, until Lily had brought up Booker. She had not missed the cross look on her daughter’s face. “He’s the same as he always is,” she huffed. If she had any idea what was going through Anna’s mind, she may have told her mother about the way he had kissed her and simply been done with it. 

Lily was more than happy to take Anna off Dorothy’s hands. She led the little girl to change into the newest fine dress she had bought for Anna. It was a long blue dress, certainly not for everyday wear as it was too long for running with a white sash around her belly that tied into a pretty bow on the back. Anna giggled happily as she twirled, allowing the skirt to flare out just the way she liked it. Her small arms wrapped around the older woman’s legs in a tight embrace, hurting Lily’s heart. Even if Booker and Dorothy never admitted what Lily could clearly see as a far deeper care than someone’s employee, she hoped Booker would keep Dorothy around so long as Lily could dote on Anna for the rest of her life. 

“Now this dress is only for special occasions,” Lily wagged her finger while Anna admired the dress more. “I would certainly hate to hear that this dress was ripped in a snow ball fight or climbing trees as you do.”

“I promise,” Anna crossed her heart. 

“Good,” smiled Lily pleasantly. “Now why don’t you change out of that and we’ll see what’s been bothering my daughter so. That dress looks beautiful on you, your father should watch over you carefully before some prince becomes convinced you are a princess and must take you to his castle.”

“Will he kiss me,” Anna scrunched her nose at the thought. Even after witnessing her father and nanny kissing last night, it looked pretty gross to the five-year-old. 

“Only when you’re ready.”

“Dorothy didn’t seem very ready when daddy kissed her last night.”

Lily chuckled warmly and patted the child on the head. “Oh Anna dear, they – wait, what?”

“Daddy came home late, and Dorothy thought he was a bad man so she attacked him, then he kissed her and they went into her room.”

Lily’s eyes were wide as saucers. Could it be true? Did she really take that man into her bed after she had sworn there was nothing unprofessional about their relationship? Was she crazy? 

“DOROTHY SMALL YOU COME IN HERE THIS INSTANT!”

Booker had to admit, it felt good to be back to work. There was still much to do and a very short amount of time to get anything done, and a much shorter time given that he had been out for a week. Thomas and his men were certainly happier to see him when he came back. “Perhaps a drink later,” suggested James. Booker thought briefly about what had happened between him and Dorothy, not sure if he wanted to risk another incident, especially not knowing how she felt.

Ultimately he had agreed, because he was not the type of man to turn down a free drink. Besides, after everything with Dorothy on his mind, perhaps the alcohol would muddle down just how much he was thinking about it. Thomas had him on tracking that day, just finding men who did not have too kind a word for the unions and keeping an eye on them. Granted, ever since the Anti-Pinkerton Act, Booker was not needed for a counter attack very often, now he felt more like a mercenary always keeping an ear out for the highest bidder and putting their job on priority.

There was not much to report, a couple men who had given their grief about what kind of trouble Thomas and his like were making. None were worth the effort it would take to smack them around a little. He reported his findings to Thomas, both shrugging off the news with a sigh. Quiet days made Booker feel crazy.

“So, I heard you were out drinking rather late last night,” commented James with his arms folded. 

“What are you my father now,” retorted Booker with a raised brow. 

“No, but I just wondered why a man would go out drinking by his self and not have the decency to want to invite his friends.”

“Just had a lot on my mind and didn’t want to think about it,” admitted Booker.

“About that Dorothy woman, I have no doubt.”

Booker’s eyes widened, “How did you know that?”

“I may not be your father but I was a father once,” he wagged his finger. “Also you forget that I was a young man once as well. So tell me, what happened?” Booker sighed, there was no getting out of admitting what his problem was. He started with the story of Oscar and finished at going to bed alone instead of with Dorothy. 

“Who is this Oscar fellow?”

“Dorothy didn’t really mention much about him,” shrugged Booker. “They ran into each other and he walked her home. But there’s something wrong with the timing on this guy. Doesn’t rub me the right way.”

“Have you met him?”

“No.”

“Do you plan on it?”

“No.”

“So you’re going to leave your friend to the mercy of a man who doesn’t sit well with you,” James raised an eyebrow expectantly. The scowl he’d gotten from his younger friend was all the answer he needed. “Why not meet the man? If he is truly a bad man, then you’ll have the pleasure of beating him senseless. If he checks out, then you’ll have peace of mind.”

Booker grunted in response, clearly not pleased with that approach, but knowing there would be no other way of keeping his daughter and his friend safe. 

“Come on,” chuckled James with a hard pat on his shoulder. “I’ll get you that drink.” 

Booker followed, suddenly he really needed it.

“Mother please!” Dorothy’s face had felt like it had been lit on fire as she tried to explain what had happened the previous night. “Nothing happened between us, I told him no and sent him back to his own room.”

“That is still a lot of time before you told him you didn’t want to sleep with him,” shrieked an outraged Lily. “Dorothy, I don’t know whether to be furious or elated with you right now. I know I said I wanted grandchildren but this is not what I had in mind!”

“Nothing happened!”

“But it almost did!”

“The only reason it did was because he was drunk,” insisted Dorothy. “This morning he would barely speak to me. If he was so certain he wanted to have me, he would have done something sooner, or while he was a sober man in his right mind.”

“Oh Dorothy,” sighed her mother. She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes and shook her head. “But what of this Oscar man now?”

“I just met him, but he knew father,” Dorothy tried.

“Your father ran a very successful mill in New York,” Lily was not so easily bought by someone who had known her husband. If she was, she would have had a great deal more friends. “I’m certain a great many men knew him.”

“Be that as it may, he’s kind and handsome. We just ran into him today actually, didn’t we Anna?”

Anna had watched the two women going back and forth with guilt. She probably would have been better off saving her questions for Elizabeth, but worried she would have forgotten what she wanted to ask about. Lily kept telling Anna that it wasn’t her fault though she was angry, but it was more at two irresponsible adults then it was the little girl. 

“I don’t like him,” answered Anna softly. “Elizabeth told me he wasn’t very nice.”

“Who is Elizabeth?”

“An imaginary friend,” scoffed Dorothy. “I’m sure it is Booker telling her lies.”

“No it’s not,” cried Anna. “Elizabeth is my friend and she’s real and she said that he’s going to hurt you and me!”

“Such lies! Such insanity, do you really believe this? You’ve barely even met the man!”

“But Elizabeth can see the doors!”

“Enough,” Lily waved both comments aside. “Darling I just worry about you. It is my right as a mother to worry, about you and Anna.” 

“There’s nothing to worry about, he’s just a friend! All I ever did was hope to see him again and everyone acts like we’re getting married!”

“And if you see him again what then? Do you simply wish to discuss the weather with him? Politics? How about the mill, I am certain he’d be very interested in that.”

“Oh, I wish I had just stayed home today,” snarled Dorothy. “And I wish I had never met Booker just so you would be less cruel to me.”

“I did not make this decision for you,” chided her mother evenly. “Now you must live with the consequence. If you truly wish to see this man again, you are an adult and that is your choice. But if your intent with your employer is to keep playing games with his head and he is not there to rescue you should this Oscar prove an ill reputable man, do not be surprised.” 

“Daddy would never!” Protested Anna, Lilly and Dorothy stopped arguing at her sudden outburst. She may have been young but she understood the friendship between the two adults. Even Elizabeth had made Anna understand that while he may have been cold to many, many people he would always protect the ones he cared for. No matter what they did to make him angry.

Like whack him in the head with a wrench. In Anna’s opinion, that seemed so much worse than kissing. Well, maybe only a little bit worse than kissing.

“Daddy really cares about you Dorothy,” Anna reminded with a twist of her fingers. “He really does, and he wouldn’t let anything happen to you!”

“Oh I’m finished with this conversation,” Dorothy threw her hands into the air. “I don’t see the need for this, if Booker wishes to act so immature because of a bad decision on both of our parts then that is his own prerogative. Until then, I shall give Oscar the benefit of the doubt. Now we have wasted enough time today as it is, Booker will be home at any time and Heaven forbid he should find Anna somewhere else.”

Lily pursed her lips into a scowl, she didn’t like the thought of this stranger, though she didn’t know he was thinking it, she too felt the same as Booker about the timing of this man. Something about it didn’t seem right, and perhaps it was motherly intuition but Lily did not trust this man. Something about how he only showed up when Dorothy was alone or with someone small like Anna. Why did he not think to introduce himself to Booker when he was at his home? Or escort Dorothy to her mother’s house and introduce himself there if he was so well acquainted with her father? Nevertheless there was no talking to her daughter, she could be stubborn and therefore was going to do as she pleased. 

Dorothy and Anna bid the woman goodbye, Anna clutching her new dress like it were a lifeline. A reminder that, should Dorothy make a mistake, she always had the support of Lily. They walked home wordlessly, though Anna kept looking over her shoulder for any sign of Oscar. Something didn’t feel right in her stomach, like she did something she should not have. Should she have tried harder to convince her nanny that Oscar was going to do something bad? Was it too late? She suddenly wished she had Elizabeth with her, she always seemed to have an answer, even if an enigmatic one. 

“Anna,” snapped Dorothy harshly. “Why have you stopped? We’re nearly home! Certainly your legs cannot be tired already!”

“My tummy hurts,” her arms wrapped around her stomach painfully. “I don’t feel good. I want my daddy!”

Dorothy sighed in pity. “Come now darling, we’re almost home. Hopefully Booker will be home soon as well and you can speak with him then.” 

“Okay,” she squeaked. Dorothy took her hand in her own, no longer angry at the young girl. None of this was her fault, and the more she thought about it, her mother was right. She shouldn’t have messed with Booker’s head the way she had the previous night, it wasn’t fair to him. If he had known that it was Dorothy last night, if he was rational enough to tell the difference between her and his wife, then she would have been wisest to turn him away immediately instead of allowing him to continue with some belief that she felt the same way. 

But did she not feel the same way? Some days she had very much longed for him to make a move, after five years of friendship and attraction it was hard not to. But now that he had, she felt like everything changed between them. Had he been waiting to act for a long time? How long? Anna was falling behind, making Dorothy slow down her pace. She glanced down at the girl, now ghost white and sniffling as she tried to keep up. 

“Almost there,” assured Dorothy. Anna took a deep breath and nodded. A gust of wind caught the two women, causing a long chill to crawl up Anna’s spine. Someone was watching them, closely. Anna knew who it was, but there was no way she was going to convince Dorothy. If she could fake the pain just a little bit longer. Almost there, almost to the house.

“Dorothy,” said a voice with no hidden smile. Oscar, again.

Damn, they were so close.

“Oscar,” responded Dorothy. The grip on Anna’s hand lessened for a second, but a brief squeeze kept her nanny’s hand firmly in place. Dorothy glanced down and Anna whined loudly, as if to emphasize the need to get home quickly. 

“Oh my,” he knelt down so he was eye-level with the five year old. “You don’t look so well.” 

“I don’t feel good,” she complained. “I want my daddy, right now!” 

“Oh I’m sure you do,” he patted her hand. “But first I must speak with your nanny. Is that alright?”

“No,” she pouted. “I want my daddy or I’m going to go by myself!” 

“Anna,” warned Dorothy. “Watch your tone.”

“How about we speak and walk at the same time,” offered Oscar as he hooked Dorothy’s arm in his. She squeezed tightly to Anna’s hand as they continued up the street. They chatted amiably about Dorothy’s visit with her mother, though she left out the part about Booker and her mother’s less than enthusiastic reaction to Oscar. After a short time, Oscar finally approached the subject he’d wanted to talk about. “So tell me Dorothy, have you ever been to the opera?” 

“Why no, I cannot say that I have. My sister saw one once, she told me it was absolutely magical.”

“As it just so happens I have come to two box seats reserved for me,” he offered. “Though it would be awful silly to go alone. I would like to have you join me this weekend.” 

“Oh that sounds wonderful,” exclaimed Dorothy. “But I would have to speak with Booker before I am able to make any decisions. If he is called away, he’ll need me to stay with Anna.” 

“I see,” nodded Oscar thoughtfully. “Well it is a shame, I had been looking so forward to having you accompany me.”

Anna was relieved when they turned down their street to see Booker approaching from the opposite direction. He noticed Dorothy and Anna, as well as some man he could only assume was Oscar. As he had for five years, his attention to every slight detail on his daughter told him something wasn’t right. 

If that son of a bitch laid a single finger on his daughter, he’d do so much worse than simply kill the bastard. 

“Anna,” He jogged to meet them. Anna wriggled her hand out of Dorothy’s grasp and sprinted full speed to her father. The pain in her tummy subsided at the comforting sight of her father. “What’s wrong?” If looks could have killed the glare he gave Oscar would have burned a hole in his head.

“I don’t feel good daddy,” she snuggled closer to him. “I have a tummy ache!”

Dorothy and Oscar were clearly more interested in their conversation, much to Booker’s annoyance. They were laughing over something and the way her arm hooked with his – Booker wanted nothing more than to deck the other man in the face. As it were, Anna needed him more. 

“Dorothy,” barked Booker. With a startled cry she faced her employer who looked none too pleased with her. His harsh green eyes narrowed at Oscar as he waved her over. She came as he told her to, but not without Oscar. 

“Booker,” she cleared her throat. Oscar’s expression was cool and collected, while Booker looked like a dog ready to bite any second. “This is Oscar, the man I was telling you about yesterday.”

“How do you do,” Oscar extended his hand. Booker took it, albeit begrudgingly, and gave a firm shake. 

“Nice to meet you,” but the tone in his voice suggested it was anything but. 

“We were just discussing going to the opera Saturday night.”

“That so?”

“I would be delighted if she could join me, she said she needs your approval before she could give me an answer. I’m sure the two of you would like to discuss it tonight. I’m sure I’ll see you again tomorrow. Until then,” in his usual manner he pressed his lips to Dorothy’s knuckles. She held back a squeal of delight while Booker and Anna rolled their eyes at the scene. 

Dorothy watched as Oscar disappeared down the street before she finally turned her attention to her employer. “Oh Booker,” she sighed. “Please let me have Saturday evening. I won’t be out all night and it’s only this once, please!”

“Do whatever you want,” he lifted his daughter and made his way back to the house. Dorothy followed closely behind – trying not to skip the entire way. Sure, Booker was in a sour mood with her, but she was still given the opportunity to enjoy her evening with Oscar. 

“Oh Booker,” Dorothy danced around the kitchen as she prepared dinner. “You have no idea how much this means to me.” 

“Well, don’t go making it a habit. Unless you get tired of being of service, you still work for me.”

“I won’t I promise.” 

Somehow it left Booker with his first impression of what Anna was going to say when she went out with her first boyfriend. It was not the first time Booker had wondered if he would ever be able to convince her to become a nun. 

She crossed the room in long strides before enveloping Booker in a tight embrace. He stiffened noticeably and made no move to hug her back. “I know things between us are a little strange,” Dorothy broke the tense silence. “Especially after last night. But I want you to know that nothing between us will change. You will always be my greatest friend.” 

He grunted in response, knowing what that meant. Soon he would be losing his friend to that Oscar fellow. But despite how he felt about him, it was Dorothy’s life and he had to let her choose. He only had a say if Anna was involved, and while it did strike him to make Dorothy work on Saturday evening, it would not end well. She’d be angry and the only excuse he would have is a jealous man and somehow he did not see Dorothy accepting that as an answer. 

Anna was worried for her nanny but on the other hand, she half hoped Oscar would give her what she had coming to her for her choosing Oscar over her father. She had – for a very long time entertained the idea that Dorothy could be her mother. Especially since the previous day with all the unpleasantness her real family had given her. 

Now she could only hope that in this door, Elizabeth was wrong.


	21. Chapter 21

Saturday approached quickly as Dorothy darted around the house to ready herself for a night at the opera. Booker occasionally looked up from the paper he was reading to watch her in amusement. Anna, though she protested, was going to spend the day with Lily while Booker had to look over some things with Thomas. When asked what exactly they were he was looking at, he’d give her a cross look and simply reply ‘things’. 

Anna was smart enough to understand that meant he didn’t want Dorothy to know. She had hoped he was looking into Oscar and that it meant he was going to stop him before any damage was done. He’d come to her, asking if she’d seen anything else of Elizabeth, when Anna explained Elizabeth’s feelings about Oscar and that nothing good was going to come out of him. It seemed to be all the answer that Booker needed, and so when Dorothy so much as mentioned the name he straightened noticeably and held back from saying whatever needed to be said. 

James had stopped by the previous day, he spoke mutedly to Booker but the expression on his face was grave. Booker nodded and whispered something back with a pat on his back. It was information in Oscar and all signs pointed to Dorothy getting hurt. While Booker was very tempted to let her learn her own lesson, he couldn’t. A voice, his conscious maybe – it’d been a long time since he’d heard it, nagged him until he finally went to Thomas and asked him to find out whatever he could.

Thomas agreed, though his waggling eyebrows told him that James had not kept completely quiet about his conversation with Booker. Thomas kept hinting that these were the ravings of a jealous man, but when the evidence began to stack up, he questioned the younger man less and looked into more.

A wife gone missing for three years, Oscar’s claim that she had run off with some Italian man, and a smell that was suspicious. But men like Oscar, they could pay the police to look the other way and so Booker had every intention of following Dorothy to the opera and should Oscar be so bold as to make his move, Booker would strike and strike hard.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. He walked Anna to Lily’s house, who was more than happy to take the young girl off his hands and he spent most of his day in his office going over paper work and evidence that he’d told Dorothy he had fallen behind on, though the truth was it was all news of Oscar and anything that suggested his intentions were less than honorable. 

“Booker,” a knock snapped him out of his work. He glanced up at the door, a quick falter on his otherwise hard expression told Dorothy exactly what she had wanted to ask him. “What do you think?”

If he were a man who was good with words, he would have called her stunning or breathtaking. An elegant blue dress her mother had reluctantly bought her, the skirt hooped out a little further than he cared for but the neckline dipped low enough to reveal her neck and stopped just before her breast both of which had very nearly been his. The thin straps that wrapped around her arms showed her shoulders and long white opera gloves raised just past her elbows. Her golden hair had been curled and tied behind her neck. She had applied rouge to her lips, making Booker want to cross his office, take her into his arms and feel them pressed tightly against his own. 

But that had already driven a wedge in their friendship. Instead, he nodded at her and grunted in his usual fashion before getting back to work. Dorothy sagged noticeably, she wanted his opinion as a man, but if that was what he’d thought, who was to say Oscar wouldn’t feel the same? 

She groaned dramatically and slid down the wall. Booker looked up again, this time chuckling as he watched her throw a tantrum. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re amused by this,” she pouted from the floor.

“You know, for someone so worried about her appearance what do you think your friend’s going to say when he finds you on the floor?” 

“You’re making fun of me!”

“Someone had to, you’re acting ridiculous.” He helped her to stand as the hoop skirt did not leave many reaches she could use on her own her without ripping the skirt. “You look fine.” He stood her up so that they were face to face. She gave him a pretty smile, realizing it was the closest they’d stood next to each other since the incident in her bedroom. Recently, he’d barely looked at her, and at that moment things felt normal between them.

“Booker,” Dorothy hesitantly took a step back. “I must ask you something.”

“Sure.”

“What happened?” He tilted his head confused. She played with the fingers of her gloves as she spoke. “We had such a wonderful friendship, and ever since you came to me drunk, we’ve barely spoken. Now every time I so much as mention Oscar you stiffen – just like now!” It was no exaggeration, Booker’s shoulder squared noticeably as he tried to hold his tongue. Now was not the time to start a fight with his friend, soon he would figure out Oscar’s intent. “Do you hate me?” 

He let out a long sigh in exasperation. “No Dorothy I don’t hate you. I just… don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“He won’t hurt me.”

“You sure?”

“Listen to yourself,” she seemed frustrated once more as she threw her arms in the air. “I’m going to get hurt? What possible reason does Oscar have to hurt me?”

“Because your mother owns the steel mill,” he offered. “Because you’re a woman, because he’s not the man you think he is?”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve to talk about men with secrets Booker DeWitt,” she folded her arms. Booker just bit the inside of his lip as she rambled. “For everything you kept hidden since I’ve known you. I still wonder about your intentions.”

“Oh yeah, and in five years you mean to tell me that you haven’t figured them out?”

“What are they?”

“You’re my daughter’s nanny, nothing more.” The icy tone had chilled Dorothy to the bone. It was true, she was simply the nanny, but it hurt her that he would say it so cruelly. He stood up and pushed past her to leave. “You want this Oscar, go for it. We’ll find someone else.” 

“This is what I mean,” she shrieked after him. He frozen but didn’t turn around to face her. “Five years ago, five DAYS ago, you would have thought me irreplaceable! Now, ever since I said I didn’t want to sleep with you, you treat me like I need to be thrown out like garbage.” He didn’t answer her as he knew the best response was to simply walk away. 

“Booker,” she called again with the slightest hitch in her breath. “If it upsets you this much, I’ll stay. You were one of my best friends, and I’d die if I could never see Anna again. Please don’t replace me.”

“Dorothy,” he hated when she made him feel like he was the bad guy. Perhaps it wasn’t too late, he could still be honest with her. But did he really want to risk his feelings to spare hers? What if she turned him down? She’d already done it once, and while he couldn’t blame her for not wanting his drunken, fool self, it hadn’t felt good all the same. “I’m not going to replace you. Just… Go. He’s probably going to be here soon.” 

Dorothy paused, not quite sure if Booker really meant what he’d said about not replacing her. “Are we still friends?”

“Yeah Dorothy,” he forced a halfcocked smile and nodded. “We’re still friends. I gotta meet Thomas and James, I’ll probably be home after you. So if you hear some drunken fool slamming doors – peak before you charge them with a knife.”

She snorted and agreed before wrapping her arms around him. Booker, same as he had in the past, just patted her awkwardly on the back before he stepped out of her reach. “Be careful with them. I’d hate for something to happen while I’m not around to nag you.” 

A knock at the door told them that Oscar was waiting for her. She cried out happily as she raced to the door, leaving Booker to watch after her. 

“You look lovely,” he could hear him say. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, let’s go!” The happiness in her voice was unmistakable as they left in a rush. Booker knew all the rules to tailing someone, but Dorothy would prove difficult, especially since they knew each other. 

They had made it to the opera house, and Booker had barely managed to sneak by. Thomas and James had already been waiting for him around the corner. “Jesus boy,” chuckled Thomas. “You’re getting ready to go to the opera, you couldn’t put on a tie?” 

“Do you have what I need or not,” Booker asked hotly. 

“We do, but you’re not going to be able to get in looking like that,” answered James. “We’ve already mapped out a way to sneak you in undetected. They’re in box three, which I have no idea what that means, but I’ve heard it’s quite fancy.”

“It’ll be private seating,” informed Thomas. “That could also mean that it’s being guarded by some of Oscar’s personal men. That makes this risky.”

“I can take them,” Booker said confidently. 

“I have no doubt, but if the rest of security gets wind of you acting belligerent and fighting, they’ll physically throw you to the curb before Oscar, trust me.”

“Personal experience?”

“You don’t want to know. But we mustn’t waste time, we’ve got to get you inside before it is too late.” 

He followed the men to the back entrance, the door swung open and a man dressed as an usher quickly waved the three inside. At Booker’s puzzled glance Thomas chuckled, “As much ruckus as I cause, I know people.”

“You’ll find box three just up the stairs, I’d get up there just after the curtain is raised - that’ll leave just you and Oscar’s men. If anything seems to be going awry, we’ll watch for your signal and cause a distraction.”

“Wait, what signal?”

“Whenever you pull the first punch,” Thomas continued. “We’ll be close enough to throw ourselves in between you and anyone stopping you from getting to Oscar. Don’t kill him, at least not here, too many ritzy people here will finger you as the instigator and you’re going to prison at best. But if you’re serious and think he’s going to hurt Dorothy, get her out of here, that’s the priority.” 

They parted ways, Booker checked for every visible exit as he made his way to box three. The sound of a woman giggling caught his attention. Five years of hearing her laugh let him know it was Dorothy though he was unsure of what direction they were coming from.

“Ah Mr. DeWitt,” he startled before spinning around. Oscar with Dorothy’s arm wrapped around his seemed pleasantly surprised. Unlike his company who was glaring daggers at her employer. “What brings you this way? I never would have guessed you for the opera type.” 

“I was looking for someone,” he lied quickly. “A source told me I’d find them here tonight. I was just finding my way around.” 

“I see,” Oscar waved Booker forward. “My box has the best seats in the building, perhaps a bird’s eye view would help you locate your man sooner.” Dorothy shook her head furiously, as if signaling for Booker to buzz off and mind his own business. His eyes narrowed at her, if she had any idea that he was doing this for her, she’d certainly change her mind. 

“That could work,” nodded Booker. “Thanks.” 

Oscar and Dorothy lead the way, though she glanced back every once in a while to scowl at Booker before sticking her nose back in the air with a huff. 

“Here we are, the best seats in the house,” he took a seat and sat Dorothy next to him while Booker looked over the balcony. Thomas and James were shrugging at him as if to ask him how the hell he managed to just sit with them undetected. “Any sign of your man?”

“No.”

“Ah that’s too bad,” said Oscar remorsefully. “Well then, if you’re not busy, perhaps you could sit with us until the end of the show.”

“Oh Oscar,” complained Dorothy. It would only figure that Booker would barge in on a night like this. 

“Come now my dear, Mr. DeWitt would catch a death of cold if he were to wait outside. Now we mustn’t argue, they’re beginning.”

The music was too loud for Booker to hear what they were talking about, but at least he could see enough of her expression to tell that she was still complaining about his presence. As far as he was concerned, for what he had to endure for her safety, she deserved to be a little inconvenience. He tried to make it seem like he was really interested in the opera, though really he had no idea what was going on. He couldn’t speak Italian and he was paying too much attention to Oscar and Dorothy he couldn’t read the body language either. 

Finally it was the intermission. Booker excused himself, knowing if he got too comfortable in their presence he’d look suspicious. He claimed he thought he saw the man he was looking for and left quickly. 

“Finally,” huffed Dorothy as she stared at the door her friend had exited. 

“Are you enjoying the show,” Oscar asked as he took her gloved hand in his. Dorothy nodded with a warm smile as she curled her fingers around his own. “Good.” His opposite hand reached up to the nape of her neck as his fingers traced an invisible pattern. “You know, the way that DeWitt’s brat had acted towards me, I had assumed there was something going on between you two.”

“Excuse me,” Dorothy backed out of his reach. While she may have been annoyed with the little girl for outing her night with Booker to her mother, she still loved Anna as though she were her own.

“Was there?” He tightened his grip on her hand so that she could not pull away so easily when she tried to. “Did you fuck DeWitt?”

“That’s ridiculous,” with a hard yank she managed to free her hand, though without her glove. “How dare you assume - ?”

“He seems quite interested in you,” growled Oscar as he advanced on her. Dorothy backed herself into a wall, though she was intimidated by Oscar’s sudden change in personality it was still a public building. He would be foolish to try something if she were to call rape or something. “I saw the way he kept watching us. No doubt picturing you for himself, when he could get you alone.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve lived with Booker for five years and he’s been a gentleman. You, I barely know, and this is the nasty impression you leave on me. If you’ll excuse me, I am going to see if I can find Booker before there is any more unpleasantness between us.” 

She made to leave but he wasn’t going to let her be so easily. He lunged at her, Dorothy was only able to barely dodge him as she darted for the door. She was close, so close to making it until one of his lackeys noticed the commotion, he blocked her exit. Trying to find a new option, Dorothy couldn’t believe she was thinking it, but she hoped Booker could come back for her, she desperately needed her friend. 

“Don’t you dare Oscar,” she demanded. “I’ll call for help, I’ll call rape!”

“You think anyone would come for you? Do you really think DeWitt is going to come back for you?” He laughed in such a maniacal way that it frightened Dorothy. Was he going to hurt her too badly? Would she be able to hide it? Would she be able to live with it? “Wallace, find that DeWitt boy, bring his body back to me when you’re done with him.”

“No,” she cried and ran after Wallace. Oscar wrapped his arms around her forcefully. She struggled to be free, bucking and throwing as she tried to wriggle out of his arms. She tried calling for help but he backed her into the wall and forced his mouth on hers. It wasn’t the same as Booker’s forceful action. Though savagely, Booker kissed her with unmistakable passion, he didn’t want to hurt her, he just wanted her. But he respected when she said no, even if he didn’t like it. He gave her, her space when she asked him to leave.

Oscar enjoyed her discomfort as his tongue tried to slide its way into her mouth, Dorothy kept struggling to escape. Finally, when she senses began to return, her knee shot up to his groin. Oscar doubled over from the pain as Dorothy ran for the exit. She was nearly to the stairs when a hand reached for her braid and yanked her back. “You’re not escaping that easily!” 

It was Wallace, who somehow knew she would get free. He dragged her back to the box by her hair. Her scalp felt like it was going to rip clean off her head, which made her think of her friend again. “BOOKER! HELP ME! HE-grrk.” His large hand closed over her throat and squeezed tighter as she struggled to remove the offensive hands. Oscar limped to where she was being held in place. Her legs began to grow weak as all her efforts were in vain. Wallace was simply too large to fight and his grip too tight to loosen.

“Stupid bitch,” Oscar spat on her. She flinched but lazily as her vision began swimming. Oscar continued to rant at her, but everything sounded like it was underwater. The last thing she remembered was the blank look on Oscar’s face before being slammed onto the ground.


End file.
